


The Switch

by TwoBoys2Love



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam Winchester, M/M, References to Dean Winchester/Other(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 09:01:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4600881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoBoys2Love/pseuds/TwoBoys2Love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchesters hunt </p><p>together but that's as far as it goes. </p><p>One night Sam gets an eye full of his </p><p>brother getting a blow job. Everything </p><p>changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Switch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fiercelynormal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiercelynormal/gifts), [tebtosca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tebtosca/gifts).



Dean's lungs were straining for air. He shoved the man in front of him back against the brick wall of the local biker joint.

He hadn't intended to get into it with anyone but the guy had just been askin' for it.

The man in front of Dean tried to push off the wall but Dean wasn't going to let him get the upper hand. Dean's forearm crushed against the man's throat and he kicked the guy's legs apart to knock him off balance.

The adrenaline that was racing through his system began to be replaced by a burning desire. He always found it a little _extra_ exciting when he was with a guy who was built and could take a bit of roughing up. It wasn't that he _needed_ rough but after a long day hunting some piece of shit it just seemed right.

Dean's mind was focused on the man in front of him when their hips collided. Dean was already painfully hard but his balls throbbed as their jeans rubbed together.

The man against the wall opened his mouth to speak and Dean slapped his hand over it. "Only one reason for you to have that mouth open and talkin' ain't it."

The man's hair had come loose from his ponytail and strands of it were clinging to the sweat glistening on his cheeks.

The night air was hot and still and Dean could smell his own sweat and the other guy’s. It definitely worked for him.

He stepped back and flipped his belt open so he could unbutton his jeans. The entire time he kept his gaze locked with that of the man in front of him. It was the silent negotiation of who would be on their knees, who had control of the situation.

Dean ran his tongue along his bottom lip. He wasn't completely unaware of what his assets were. He smirked when his partner's gaze followed his tongue.

In silent agreement the man pushed off the wall and waited for Dean to take his place.

It was time for the good part.

Smirking, Dean leaned back against the brick wall. Bending a knee he planted one foot flat on the wall and unbuttoned his jeans the rest of the way.

Earlier, after his shower he knew damn well what he wanted to look for that night. So he hadn't even bothered with underwear. Boxers were just one more thing to get out of the way. A waste of Dean's precious time.

The biker leaned in to kiss Dean and was blocked by Dean's forearm. Lifting an eyebrow he shook his head slowly.

It wasn't that Dean didn't like kissing. It just wasn't what he wanted from tall, lean sweaty bikers in back alleys. That was something he did when he had time to really make it count.

The biker shrugged and took a knee. He pulled the front of Dean's jeans open wider and slid a hand inside. The guy's hand felt cold against the intense heat of Dean's swollen cock. He coldn't help the half-moan, half-growl that shattered the silence in the alley.

The guy glanced up, looking pleased with himself and Dean grabbed a handful of the guy's long, brown hair. He clenched his fist so tightly that they guy grimaced, but that didn't stop him from freeing Dean's cock and leaning in closer.

Dean tightened both hands in the biker's hair and let his head fall back against the wall.

The buckles on the biker's leather clanked against the ground and it felt like he shifted closer.

The the wet slide of the guy's tongue from Dean's balls to the head of his cock made him clench his jaw. Heat moved razor sharp through Dean's body. It reminded him of the warm comfort of blood that appeared an instant before the pain of a cut.

After a couple more seconds the only heat Dean could concentrate on was the heat that came from the biker's mouth as it slid onto his cock.

Dean didn't like waiting. He thrust his hips forward and felt the head of his cock connect with the back of the biker's throat.

They could both do better.

Dean dropped his foot back to the asphalt and widened his stance before guiding the biker's head back slightly.

His aching length slid deeper and the biker gagged once before getting it together. Dean clenched his ass to rock his hips forward again and again. He wanted release. He needed the hunt, the bickering with Sam, the shitty motel room and all the tension that came with it sucked right out of his swollen cock.

The biker seemed to get it. He had long since stopped straining against Dean's hold.

When Dean opened his eyes he could see the night sky far above the buildings that flanked them. The light from the city was like a cloudy lens in an old eye that didn't let the stars through.

Dean kept thrusting his hips forward and he could feel the telltale swell of his balls. He loosed one hand from the biker's hair so he could brace himself against the wall.

He turned his head to the side and saw a tall, thin, silhouette at the end of the alley. Then the silhouette was Sam stepping into the circle of light from a street lamp.

" _Fuck_ ," Dean murmured. _Sam_. His brother was the very last person that Dean wanted to be watching him get a blowjob.

Everything inside Dean got all tangled up. His hips thrust forward and he closed his eyes as his balls tightened and he came. He grunted as his release rattled loose the tension throughout his body.

Dean gasped for air and opened his eyes. Sam was gone. The biker's throat was working Dean's cock as it pulsed. The most fucked up mess of feelings and thoughts was rolling around in Dean's head.

He pushed the biker away and took a few moments to enjoy how cool the air felt on his wet cock.

His head fell back against the wall and he groaned. Sam didn't know about Dean's encounters with men. It wasn't all that difficult to be discreet. It wasn't like Sam had any interest in who Dean was fucking. They spent enough time together during the day that they often went their separate ways in the evenings.

"That your _boyfriend_ catchin' you?" There was a smirk on the biker's face and Dean wanted to punch it off.

"He's more than that and hell of a lot bitchier." Dean tucked himself back in his jeans and began buttoning them up as he took a few shaky steps towards the end of the ally.

"Hey!" The biker called out. "What about me?"

Dean turned and walked backwards as he did up his belt. "I'm sure you can figure it out."

Grinning, Dean turned and headed out of the alley.

It was a short walk back to the motel so Dean slowed his pace. he was in _no_ rush to get back there. He knew his brother well enough to know that Sam would have gone right back to the Motel room to wait for Dean so they could _talk_.

Dean hated talking and he knew that the upcoming talk was going to be a real ballbuster.

As he trudged along the deserted street Dean could picture the look that was going to be on Sam's face when he opened the door.

Sam's lips would be a thin line, his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed. It was what Dean often called Sam's _bitch_ face.

But seeing his brother fucking into a biker's mouth was new. Dean hoped that he'd had one beer too many and he'd just imagined Sam at the end of the alley. He was _never_ that lucky though.

Dean patted his jacket pockets for some gum. After a few seconds he pulled out a crumpled packet of gum and put a piece of gum in his mouth.

As he walked past another bar the scent of beer and smoke wafted out the open door.

Dean grimaced and walked a little faster.

What was he going to say to Sam? He could try and lie and say he'd never done it before. But lying to Sam was like dancing on broken glass. He knew Sam would know if he were lying.

He _could_ say that the lips around his cock belonged to a woman.. Yeah. Even from the end of the alley Sam would have been able to see the broad shoulders and motorcycle boots.

Trudging along, Dean shook his head. He would just ignore Sam's reaction. There was nothing wrong with having sex with men. And it wasn't Sam's business anyway.

The glowing neon of the motel appeared and Dean took a deep breath. The sign was a flashing palm tree. The Oasis. It had sounded good. But the room was a little like it had been pulled from the seventies.

At least the beds were comfortable and clean. Dean didn't need much more than that to be happy. They'd stayed in some shitholes lately so the Oasis felt like a palace.

Dean hesitated at the door and took a few deep breaths. He straightened his jacket and closed his eyes for a few moments then slipped his key into the door.

 _Act normal_.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean strode into the room and shrugged out of his jacket. He tossed it over the chair by the door and bent down to retrieve a beer from the fridge. The hiss of the bottle opening was the only sound in the room.

Chancing a glance across the stretch of the room, Dean saw that Sam was sitting at the small desk by the grimy window.

Sam's back was to Dean but he didn't have to be a mind reader to see the tension in Sam's shoulders The laptop was on in front of Sam but nothing appeared to be happening on the screen.

It wasn't a good sign. Sam would crack eventually and _have_ to talk about what had happened. On the other hand, Dean just wanted to sleep. But that would just make things worse.

"Sam? Did ya hear me?"

"I heard you."

Dean pressed his lips together and nodded. So, it was going to be like that. Just because Dean had expected it didn't mean he welcomed it. "Okay. You, uh, want a beer?"

"No." Sam was rigid and kept staring at the laptop screen as though he could bore holes in it.

Dean drained half the bottle of beer then headed over to his bed. he sat down and unlaced his boots. He was pulling the second one off when he heard Sam sigh. "You okay, Sam?"

" _Jesus Christ_."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He tried to keep his breathing steady. It wouldn't help things at all if he lost his temper. "Okay, Sam-"

"Okay?" Sam twisted on the chair so he could glare at his brother. "Okay?"

Dean sighed. he _not_ going to be cornered into beginning a conversation he didn't even want to have.

"What was that?"

Raising an eyebrow, Dean looked over at his brother. "What was what?"

Sam's jaw was twitching and his brow was damp with sweat. "You were with a guy."

It might be obvious but it was something that Dean had never admitted to. He'd never wanted to talk to Sam about it. For so many reasons that was just wrong. "Yes, Sam. I was."

There was a look of expectation on Sam's face which slowly morphed into frustration when no further explanation was forthcoming. "How could you not tell me something like that?"

"What? You and I don't sit around and tell stories about who we've kissed so we can giggle and blush." All of the conversations he and Sam had suffered through that related to their sex lives had been as short as possible.

"Don't be a dick. You know exactly what i mean. I don't want to hear details but how do you justify never telling me that you were gay?" The expression on Sam's face was full of hurt.

Dean bristled. "I'm not gay. Just because you saw me with _one_ guy doesn't mean I'm gay."

"Semantics."

Dean frowned and shook his head. "No. Women, men, it depends."

"So you're bisexual?" Sam looked really frustrated and gripped the back of the char tightly.

"Why does it have to be _called_ something? Is that gonna make you feel better about it?" Dean drank some more beer but he knew there wasn't enough beer in the world for the conversation he was being forced to have.

"Not much will make me feel better that you completely shut me out of this part of your life." Finally, Sam turned back to face the window.

Staring at Sam's back, Dean drank some more beer. Maybe Sam was done. But the more Dean thought about it the more unfair it seemed. He hadn't deliberately shut Sam out of anything. Sex had _never_ been something they talked about. Apart from a couple of times when they'd walked in on each other with respective hook-ups, nothing was said. Dean didn't even like to think about Sam having sex with anyone.

"Y'know, Sam. This isn't a big deal. It shouldn't be anyway." Dean was really tired of feeling guilty about things.

"Well, it is to me," Sam retorted.

"You got a problem with it?" It was a low blow. Dean knew his little brother didn't judge people. There was _way_ too much grey area in the lives of hunters for them to judge anyone.

Sam's head whipped around and he glared at Dean. "You know this isn't about that. I don't care what you do, Dean. I _care_ that you didn't tell me about something so important.

"Okay," Dean said firmly. "You know now. We good?"

Continuing to glare, Sam let out an angry huff.

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck. He was tired of butting heads with his brother. "Sam, I'm sorry I didn't think you needed to know. Can we move on now?"

Too much time passed but then Sam nodded.

Relief washed Dean's agitation away and he flopped down on the bed. There were so many stains on the ceiling that it looked like some kind of map of an alternative world.

"This demon is _really_ starting to piss me off," Sam said gruffly.

A subject change was welcome. Dean groaned as he sat back up again. He really should do sit-ups every day. " _All_ demons are assholes so it's not surprising."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "But, I found the hospice here so we might be able to get ahead of him."

Good ol’ Sammy and his research OCD. "Great. We can head over there tomorrow."

Sam nodded and stood up to stretch out his back. When he held his arms up high above his head Dean could see the small of Sam's back. His skin was pale. Sometimes Dean forgot what the sun looked like. At least the case they were working on meant they could move around during daylight hours.

Dean pulled his own t-shirt off and threw it in the general direction of his bag. "Suits tomorrow then?"

"Nah." Sam combed his fingers through his hair a few times. "I've got a better idea."

Dean didn't bother taking his jeans off. He just rolled over onto his belly and buried his face in his pillow. The white sheets were rough against his cheek and they smelled like bleach. The good thing was that meant they were clean.

The case was really irritating. They'd noticed that there were some bizarre _recoveries_ going on at Hospices. Patients who were palliative were registered at the Hospice then suddenly they were given a clean bill of health.

Dean had been skeptical at first but he'd noticed that it was happening in the same type of agencies all over the State.

Sam had tracked down one of the miraculously healed Hospice patients. He was a young man, Henry. And he'd been diagnosed with Lymphoma. His oncologist had given him two months to live.

It had been six months and there was Henry looking happy and healthy and clutching the CT scan report that showed there was _no_ sign of any cancer anywhere in his body.

 _No_ cancer at all.

It was Sam who got to the bottom of what was going on. After Henry saw the evidence he admitted to having made a deal with a demon: five years of illness-free life in exchange for his soul. He said he had nothing to lose. Dean figured if more people got a preview of Hell they would probably revise their position.

The Winchesters had found themselves hunting yet another demon.

Dean felt like it was a special kind of evil to take advantage of people who were dying. On top of that the demon was only giving people five years. If they hadn't been facing death already it would never have worked.

Frankly, Dean was a little surprised that a demon hadn't thought of it before.

Before they'd left Henry, Dean had said how stupid it was to make a deal with a demon for _any_ reason. Sam had kicked him under the table.

Maybe it was the pot calling the kettle black abut it _was_ stupid - especially when the Winchesters had done it.

This was how Dean's life worked. he was hunting a low-life demon that was really annoying him and _now_ his brother had managed to see him with a guy getting his rocks off.

It would be a long week.

Sam was rustling around and Dean rolled over to see what he was doing.

He was undressing. Dean's eyes moved over the broad shoulders of his brother and then down to his slender waist.

"So, what is it," Sam asked.

It was a jolt to Dean's system and his eyes shot up to his brother's face. "What?"

"Is it that guys are stronger? Do you like that?" Sam unbuckled his belt and that was Dean's cue to roll over and face the wall.

"Can we talk about this some other time?" Dean wrestled with the ghastly orange quilt until he could get it to partially cover his shoulders.

The room was silent for a while then Sam's bed creaked. "Right."

The tone was _very_ familiar to Dean. He knew that Sam didn't think Dean would ever talk about the encounter in the alley.

If Dean had his way he wouldn't have to discuss his sex life with his brother ever again. He knew his brother though and he knew it would come up.

"Night, Sam."

"Yeah."

-=-=-=-

They set off early in the morning. Sam picked up some breakfast to go while Dean loaded up the car and then they hit the road.

There were a good two hundred miles ahead of them before they got to the next Hospice they figured the Demon would hit.

"What's that _plan_ you mentioned last night?" Dean was curious how Sam hoped to get the attention of the Demon. It wasn't like either of them had a fatal illness. Well, not that he knew off. Dean was pretty sure there were some messed up cells in his body.

"We just have to get into the Hospice. We go in as a couple." Sam seemed like he was trying to look a little _too_ casual and it made Dean suspicious.

"A couple of what?" Dean asked. Reaching down he turned the stereo volume down a little.

"A _couple_ couple," Sam said again. "A gay couple. We'll say that one of us has cancer. We'll go with something like Henry had."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean interrupted. "Why a gay couple? Are you trying to make some kind of point?" It would be just like Sam to force Dean's hand when he really didn't want to talk about anything.

"Really?" Sam snapped. "Not everything is about you, Dean. You got a better idea?"

"I don't think everything is about me," Dean protested weakly. "And I don't have a better plan. _Jesus_." He tightened his hands on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead so he wouldn't be tempted to glare at Sam.

Neither of them spoke for a few miles and it was really getting under Dean's skin. He waited another mile for good measure then tried another approach with his brother. "Couldn't we just go in as brothers? I mean, it's not like we haven't been through something like that." Dean was hopeful that he could appeal to Sam's sentimental side. "I know how it felt to lose you, Sam. It wouldn't be like acting at all."

When Dean glanced over at his brother he saw that something had softened in Sam's expression. But that was no guarantee that he'd gained any ground.

"Look, Dean. We're much more likely to seem realistic as a couple. There's nothing remotely normal about two brothers our age going to a Hospice together." Sam sighed and shifted around on the seat.

"What's not normal about brothers caring about each other?" Dean muttered.

"You're not that naive," Sam said. "Nothing about us is normal. Most guys our age are married with kids." The way Sam said it had a twinge of regret.

"Marriage? Tame all this?" Dean gestured to himself.

"I'm sure some married men still manage to fit in trips to dark alleys if that's what you're worried about," Sam said.

"Wow," Dean answered. " _That_ was pretty judgey even for you."

Sam was quiet for a while then he looked over at Dean. "It may have been a little bitchy. But I still think I'm right about a gay couple being more believable. This isn't about you and ... what was his name?"

"Oh no. We're not talking names," Dean said quickly. The thing was,he couldn't actually remember the guy's name but he didn't want to tell Sam that.

For a while, Dean just watched the road as it stretched out before them "Okay."

"Good," Sam said quickly. "We don't even have to change our names. We can say we got married in another state. I'll be the sick one. You're too ... solid looking."

"What's the supposed to mean?"

"You look healthy. It's not an insult for fuck sakes." Sam laughed a little hollowly and looked out the passenger window for a while.

"When we get there we just say we want a place for you?" Dean decided to focus on settling things between them and getting them back on an even keel.

"Once we stop in a motel I'll do a bit more research on the place. I have some fake insurance that Garth will deal with on the phone." Sam picked up a water bottle and drank about half of it.

"Garth is an idiot." Dean actually kind of liked Garth but he didn't trust the guy one hundred per cent. And he missed Bobby. That would never change.

"He'll answer the phone and handle the insurance when the Hospice Administration calls. They we'll be in and we hope that the demon can't smell cancer tumors or something." It sounded like Sam had put a lot of thought into his plan before he'd mentioned it to Dean.

Dean knew they could argue for miles without Sam changing his mind though so he didn't bring it up. "Fine," Dean said grudgingly. "But if I get the slightest whiff of this being your idea of a way to make a _point_ about the other night..."

There was a hint of victory in Sam's low chuckle. "Nothing like that. It just makes sense."

Dean grunted in a way that Sam was free to try and interpret as agreement. He was pretty sure the hunt would be _very_ interesting.

-=-=-=-

"Happy Vale Hospice," Dean muttered. "Really?" The thought of spending his final days in a place named _Happy_ Vale seemed like some kind of sick joke.

"Nice place though," Sam said quietly.

Dean nodded. The building was huge; it even had a fountain off to the side. The general area was like a little forest oasis in the far reaches of the city. There could be some redeeming qualities about the place even with such a stupid name.

"Let's do this," Dean said.

They walked up the stone steps and headed in through automatic sliding doors. Dean was surprised that they weren't immediately assaulted by the chemical clean hospital smell. The place smelled more like it was a hotel.

The reception area was set up more like a living room than anything else. Dean didn't mind it as much as he thought he would. He hated hospitals but the Hospice didn't feel like one at all.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" A tall brunette woman had appeared from one of the hallways. Dean raised his eyebrows and nudged his brother with his elbow.

The woman was attractive. She was obviously athletic and Dean liked the way she was dressed down in jeans and a t-shirt.

Sam stepped forward and extended his hand. "I'm Sam Winchester and this is my husband, Dean."

"Nice to meet you both. I'm Dr. Hughes, the Director." Her smile seemed genuine and Dean couldn't help smiling back. She had a round face that was framed by the curls of blonde hair that fell to her shoulders.

"Are you here to look into some Hospice care for a relative?"

Sam pressed his lips together. "We're here doing some research ... for me."

The doctor reached out and squeezed Sam's shoulder. "How about we go to the private lounge and chat about everything?"

Dean nodded and the Doctor smiled and lead the way through the building to a small but comfortable lounge it he back.

The sun streamed through a wall of windows and the sofa that Sam and Dean sat on felt warm. He gazed out the window at the well-groomed garden. There was a small fountain in the middle of a beautiful green lawn. There was a young , very thin woman sitting in a wheelchair near the fountain. There were children at the woman's feet; they couldn't have been more than seven or eight. Something tight and uncomfortable spread through Dean's body. The woman looked _very_ ill but she was _so_ young.

"Dean?"

Sam's voice pulled Dean back into the room. "What? Yeah. Sorry."

"It's alright," Dr. Hughes said. "Sam was just telling me about his cancer. He was expressing some interest in spending some time here when his illness progresses."

"Yeah," Dean said. He looked down at his boots and rubbed his hands on his jeans. The idea of something like that actually happening to Sam made Dean feel uncomfortable. It felt a little like tempting fate.

The doctor's expression softened and she looked at Dean for a while before speaking. "Are you okay with Sam's decision, Dean?"

"To be here?" Dean nodded. "Whatever he wants. whatever he needs." It wasn't a fabrication to go with their cover. Dean always put Sam first; well, he tried.

Sam shifted a bit closer and Dean could feel the heat of Sam's thigh against his own.

"What do _you_ want, Dean?" The doctor asked.

What Dean really wanted to say was that he wanted a beer. He didn't. "I want Sam to be happy."

The doctor nodded and Dean could feel Sam's eyes on him. For a moment he wondered if he'd answered wrong but everything seemed fine.

"Here at the center we focus on making our residents comfortable. One of our goals is to take care of your loved one so you are free to just be with your husband during his final days." The rest of the doctor's words began to blend together in Dean's mind.

The more Dean thought about losing someone, losing Sam, the more odd it felt. Even though he and Sam had been through so much, they'd been so close to death too many times. But Dean didn't _really_ believe that he would lose Sam. It wasn't something he ever wanted to face.

Sam nudged Dean with his elbow so Dean focused on the conversation again.

The doctor was describing some of the programs. "A lot of our programs are run by our volunteers. They go through some very intense training. Confidentiality is really important to all of our residents."

It was clear that the demon had to be putting a bit of effort into acquiring his victims. He may even be traveling around to some places for quite a while before nailing down a victim.

The doctor turned towards a movement outside and waved at a man who was passing by with a tray of flowers. She gestured for him to come inside.

"Sam, if you don't mind, I'd like to speak to Dean. I've asked Jackson to come in so he can show you around the grounds."

"Of course," Sam said. "I'd like that."

There was a knock on the door and a slight man with dark hair came in.

Once introductions were made Sam nodded and disappeared with Jackson.

Too late, Dean realized that Sam being out in the garden meant that he would be alone with the doctor. "I - I am worried about my b - I'm worried about Sammy."

"That's a perfectly natural reaction."

The doctor said nothing else and Dean shifted on the sofa. He felt like an insect under the lens of a microscope. He shrugged, feeling as though he was supposed to be saying something or revealing his _feelings_. The problem was that he couldn't come up with anything.

"I can see this is a real struggle for you, Dean," the doctor began. "Are you feeling overwhelmed by taking care of Sam?"

"No," Dean answered quickly. "It's never been a burden to look after Sam. _Never._ "

The doctor nodded slowly. "It must be difficult with the way he looks."

Dean's eyes widened. "The way he looks?"

"Well, he doesn't _look_ as though he's dealing with an illness. Do you find that difficult?"

Dean shrugged again. "Not really. I know everything about Sam. I can always tell when he's not feeling well. It's easy."

"You don't find the inevitability of losing Sam difficult to believe when he looks so good?"

"I can't lose Sam," Dean said immediately and, obviously, without thinking.

"It must feel that way sometimes but you will find a way to work through it. It seems impossible but things change."

"No," Dean protested. "He's the other half of me. I wouldn't know how to even get up every day if he wasn't around." Dean turned his gaze towards the window and he could see Sam and the volunteer talking as they sat outside near the fountain.

"We have some counsellors here that I'm sure would be a good fit for you -"

"No, I don't need to see a head shrinker. I know what I feel about Sam. I will always do everything that Sam wants me to do - well, you know. I mean I'm not gonna eat salad every day or anything like that." Dean smiled softly.

Dean was in over his head and he really wanted Sam to come back into the lounge and bail him out.

"Well, all of our services will be available to you as well as your husband. Perhaps you will change your mind in the future."

"Sure," Dean said. "Listen. Can I go and join my ... husband? I feel like I should be with him."

The doctor was difficult to read. She looked at Dean for a while then nodded. "Of course you can. If you head back out of the lounge there's a door to the garden just-"

"I can find it." Dean stood and headed out of the room quickly. He'd had more than enough questions and wanted to see if Sam had found out anything.

He took a deep breath once he was out in the hall then headed towards the door to the garden. Sam was a sight for sore eyes. He and the volunteer were still sitting near the fountain.

"Sammy, I missed you," Dean said with a big smile on his face.

"Of course you did." Sam smiled as he turned towards his brother and away from the volunteer. Sam's eyes widened slightly. It would probably be imperceptible to anyone but Dean. Sam had found something.

"Hi, there." Dean held out his right hand to the volunteer.

Jackson's handshake was the kind that made Dean feel a little creeped out. It was a weak grasp and the guy's skin was too moist.

Dean sat down beside Sam and tried to figure out how he could wipe his hand without it being obvious.

"Jackson was telling me a bit about volunteering here. He also says that I shouldn't lose hope; miracles happen all the time."

Dean looked down at the grass under his boots but he'd picked up Sam's hint. Jackson may be the demon. "I don't know, Sam. We've gotta be realistic, too." He looked over at Jackson before speaking again.

"Sammy's doctor has said we ... we may not have long left together." It wasn't all that difficult for Dean to look sad. He was still pretty rattled by Dr. Hughes' questions and he had lost Sam before. Only a Winchester could say that.

Jackson patted Sam's hand and Dean felt himself bristle a little. He'd never liked it when people touched Sam. Well, most people anyway.

Jackson looked over at Dean. "Yes, Dean. Sam was telling me about his diagnosis. I've given him some alternatives to think about."

"What kinds of things?" Dean asked as calmly as he could.

"Oh, just something things he'd learned while volunteering," Sam said. "Nothing you need to worry about."

"I always worry about you, babe." Dean grinned and slid his hand over his brother's thigh so he could squeeze it.

Dean felt Sam jump slightly and smiled. He hadn't forgotten the gay thing had been Sam's idea.

A blush crept onto Sam's cheek and he ran his fingers through his hair nervously. "I know you do, Dean."

"You two are a cute couple," Jackson said. "How long have you been together?"

"We got married two years ago," Dean answered quickly "But, we've known each other most of our lives. Friends first, y'know?"

Jackson nodded. "Sam said he couldn't imagine life without you."

"We belong together," Dean said. "I don't want to be without Sam." It was another thing that was pretty well true. Hell, every time he and Sam had a bad fight Dean found himself wondering if it would be the one that sent Sam away.

"Like I said," Jackson began. "You just never know. Sam? It's been a pleasure speaking with you. I hope we'll see each other again soon."

"I feel certain we will," answered Sam.

Jackson stood and walked away. "Enjoy the garden for as long as you like."

As soon as Jackson was out of earshot, Dean turned to look at Sam. "Him?"

"Yup. He explained to me that there's a very special cure that he can share with me for a price." Sam grinned.

"And you said?"

"Naturally, I told him that no price was too high for more time with you." Sam dropped his gaze and rubbed at his cheeks.

Dean realized he was still holding Sam's thigh. He squeezed once more and withdrew his hand. He _did_ notice that Sam bit down on his bottom lip. Maybe he was trying not to say anything that would start a fight. "What's next then?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Sam glanced over at Dean then looked back down quickly. "Tonight I come back here to the garden and he'd going to _explain_ the cost to me."

"Sounds like a demon deal to me, Sammy." When Dean looked around the garden he could see Jackson back in the doctor's office speaking to her.

Dean slid his arm across his brother's shoulders and tangled his fingers in long, shaggy hair.

"What are you doing, Dean?" Sam asked through gritted teeth hidden by a smile.

"Doc's watchin'." And he really liked seeing Sam a little uncomfortable. The strange thing was that he'd never known quite how soft his brother's hair was. He liked the way it felt sliding between his fingers.

Sam checked the window and kept a smile on his face. "You're trying to get back at me, aren't you?"

"Me?" A broad grin spread across Dean's face. "I'd never do that, Sammy."

"You would so," Sam said but it sounded fond. "Anyway. Eleven tonight Jackson says no one will be in these back offices. Of course, I'm supposed to come alone."

"Of course." Dean stood slowly and held out his hand to pull Sam up to his feet. "Make it look good, Sammy."

"I hate you." Sam slid his hand into his brother's and held on as they walked towards the building.

"We should really think about settling down, Sam."

"Shut up, Dean."

-=-=-

The Winchesters killed time at the motel until it was late enough they had to get ready to head out. Dean drank a couple of beers even though Sam kept giving him dirty looks. Sam was on the laptop most of the evening. Dean wasn't sure how anyone wouldn't want to watch _Jurassic Park_ when it was on.

They left the motel at about ten. Sam dropped Dean off at the head of the alley that ran behind the Hospice. There was, after all, the slightest possibility they'd run into a _intelligent_ demon.

The neighborhood was quiet and Dean could hear coyotes yapping off in the distance. He moved down the alley swiftly as he heard the Impala drive off. By the time he got to the back gate to the Hospice garden he could feel the familiar buzz of adrenaline. He stayed in the shadows but it wasn't long before he heard footsteps on the other side of the fence.

The gate opened and Sam's face appeared. "All clear."

The brothers moved quickly. They had brought a bottle of oil with them and Sam went to work quickly. While Dean held the light Sam made a Devil's trap on the ground. In the light they could make out the lines but they were invisible in the late evening light.

Dean headed into the maze of hedges behind the fountain. He wanted to make sure that he could see Sam and both entrances to the garden. He figured the demon wasn't all that bright but he'd never take a big chance when it came to Sam.

He reached behind him and pulled out the dagger. His first choice was always to exorcise the demon from the poor son of a bitch it was riding but if push came to shove he'd take the demon out with the dagger. A blade always made Dean feel more confident. It didn't rely on mechanics or words that could be forgotten. A blade just needed Dean and he could rely on himself in a fight. More so when it came down to protecting Sam.

There was a noise off near the side of the building and Dean crouched down where he could get a better view of his brother.

Jackson approached Sam and they shook hands. Then Dean could hear the quiet murmur of voices. He watched as Sam moved casually towards the trap. His hands were in his pockets and he was smiling at Jackson.

Dean knew that Sam's fingers would be curled around the zippo that was in his pocket. It would all be over in a flash. The sign for Dean to move in was when Sam turned to face Dean's direction.

When it happened, Dean slipped silently from behind the hedges and arrived beside the fountain _just_ as the lighter hit the oil and the Devil's trap ignited around the demon's feet.

The flames surrounded Jackson and Dean stepped forward.

"Howdy," Dean said. He glanced over at Sam quickly before focusing on the demon.

"He offered me five years, Dean." Sam folded his arms and broadened his stance.

"Five? Damn. Souls just aren't worth that much anymore, are they, Jackson?"

"Hunters. You worms just crawl out of the woodwork sometimes." There was a sneer on his face and he was focused on Dean suddenly.

"Sammy, start chantin'." Over the years Dean had learned that conversations with Demons were only ever pointless and annoying.

As Sam began to recite the exorcism ritual the demon began to twist and squirm. It leaned forward slightly and instinct had Dean whipping out the dagger.

The problem was that for the very first time as far back as Dean could remember he fumbled the knife. He watched it flip through the air and it was like watching it unfold in slow motion.

Due to the worst luck that Dean had ever had, the dagger landed across the very outer line of the devil's trap and extinguished the flames for a few moments.

It only took the demon a fraction of a second to take advantage of Dean's mistake. He shot forward out of the circle.

His cold, sweaty hands closed around Sam's neck and they both fell to the ground. Sam yelled in surprise and Dean snagged the dagger off the ground as he rounded on _Jackson_.

The demon swung his hand back and knocked Dean's arm away before he could make contact with the dagger.

Dean was caught off balance but recovered in time to shoulder roll away from the demon's neck blow.

By that point Sam had scrambled to his feet and was trying to yank the demon away from his brother. His voice was strained and he was about halfway through the exorcism rite.

Dean was frustrated. He wrestled with the Demon who had ended up on top of him. He kicked up as the demon was consumed by another rite-induced seizure. Dean scrambled out from under the jerking demon and stumbled to Sam's side.

As Sam's voice rumbled through the exorcism Dean took a moment to catch his breath.

The final words of the ritual sped from Sam's lips and it was all over for the demon.

Jackson's mouth opened wide as his head fell back. A plume of black smoke slithered past Jackson's lips and then the black cloud burst from Jackson's body.

The moment the body slumped back onto the grass Sam knelt down at the man's side to check his pulse."He's alive."

"Let's move then," Dean said. He took a quick look around for anything they may have left and then he stepped over Jackson and tugged his brother towards the back gate.

Their boots crunched on the gravel as they hurried to the car.

"What the _fuck_ was that?" Sam asked.

"Huh?" Dean wasn't used to Sam criticizing his performance before they were even out of the door.

"You dropped the blade, or something knocked it out of your hand." Sam lengthened his stride as they got closer to the car.

"Big deal," Dean said. "I had your back, didn't I?'

"You broke the Devil's trap too," Sam spat.

"It was an accident," Dean almost hissed. He'd suddenly become aware that they were already raising their voices and they weren't even inside the car.

"Gimme the keys," Dean said.

Sam glared at his brother but he threw the car keys at Dean anyway.

They climbed into the car quickly and Dean drove away. A block later he turned on the headlights and then he sped up slowly.

"What were you thinking about?' Sam asked after a few blocks of silence.

"When?" Dean still wasn't understanding why Sam had his shorts in such a knot over something that worked out.

"When you dropped the damned dagger." The frustration in Sam's voice was obvious.

"Did you grow a wild hair up your ass? Everything went well. The guy is still alive but he won't be taking souls anymore. Did you have another outcome in mind?" Dean put a little more pressure on the gas pedal. The sooner they got to the motel the better. Dean was getting the feeling it would be a good idea to go out to the bar and drink himself into a better mood.

"It should have been an easy case. I just wondered if you were distracted or something. Maybe after me seeing you -"

"- Oh for fuck sakes, Sam. That didn't bother me as much as it seems to _still_ be bothering you." Dean was really starting to get annoyed.

"Well, it seemed to bother you quite a lot that night." Sam folded his arms across his chest and looked out the side window.

"I wasn't bothered, Sam. This is all in your head. I was getting a blow job from some random biker, not shooting heroin or something." Being spoken to as though he had something to hide was _really_ getting under Dean's skin.

"Some random biker? Doesn't he even have a name?" Sam turned back to face Dean and glared at him.

"i'm sure he does have a name, Sam. Most people do," Dean said flatly.

"And you don't know his name," Sam said slowly.

Shrugging, Dean turned into the motel parking lot and drove around to the back where their room was. "Why are you even asking me this?"

"Doesn't it matter to you that you don't know the guy's name?"

Dean shoved his door open and yanked the keys out of the ignition. "Why does it matter to you? that's what I want to know, Sam."

Without waiting for an answer, Dean climbed out of the Impala and strode towards the motel room door. He was still fumbling with the room key when he _felt_ Sam's presence at his back.

"I'm just trying to understand you. You won't even talk about the fact that you're gay-"

"Stop trying to label me or fit me into some convenient little fucking box. I'm not _you_ , Sam." Finally the key slid into the lock and Dean Managed to get into their room.

The door slammed behind Sam. "Dean, I'm trying to figure you out. If you couldn't tell me something like _that_ how do I know that you haven't lied about other things?" Sam shrugged out of his jacket and sat down on the end of his bed so he could pull his boots off.

"For the _last_ time I did _not_ lie about anything. You and I don't fucking talk about your sex lives. And, I'm really okay with that. We're not _Will and Grace_ ; we're hunters, Sam." A deep breath did little to stave off Dean's anger. He was exhausted by the accusations and frustrated that Sam was implying that Dean lied about things all the time.

Sam rolled his shoulders back and straightened out his t-shirt. "You lied by omission. You know exactly what I mean. How long was it after the demon blood before you trusted _me_ again?"

"Wow," Dean murmured. he picked up his flask and opened it quickly. "You sneaking around _fucking_ a demon while she juiced you up was _completely_ different than me hooking up with a random guy." The thing about Sam was that he never seemed to forget a damned thing. Dean wasn't sure where that came from.

"Why would you even bring up Ruby? It's not like you don't know that I regret _everything_ that happened." Sam's eyes narrowed and his face was a little flushed.

" _Regret_. See, I don't regret getting a blow job. He wasn't any kind of monster. He was just a good looking dude who was interested in me." Dean took a drink from the flask.

"You know," Sam said. "You can be a real dick sometimes."

The Ruby comment wasn't Dean's proudest moment but Sam was relentless sometimes. He rattled Dean. It felt a little unreal that he and Sam could be so different, how they could misunderstand each other so easily. "You can be a real gem yourself, Sam."

Dean took another drink then slipped the flash into his inner pocket. "I'm going out."

"Gonna find another no-name?" Sam asked with malice in his voice.

"You know? You're my brother and I love you but don't speak to me like that unless you wanna get punched." Dean did up his jacket and nodded. "See ya later."

The fresh air outside felt good in Dean's aching lungs. It had been a long day and an even longer evening and Dean was tired of it.

It was a damn good thing that there was a bar within walking distance.

-=-=-=-

Dean hadn't intended to get as drunk as he did. The problem was that it felt good to relax and stop worrying about Sam and what he was thinking. It felt _really_ good. The fact that he was drinking expensive whisky didn't hurt either.

And there was a guy named Michael. He smelled really good and was the type of guy that Dean thought was hot. He was tall, slender and had shoulder length hair.

Dean had to admit that Michael looked a little like Sam but then, so did a lot of young guys. It took five whiskies for Dean to admit it and one more for him to write it off as a weird coincidence.

Either way, Dean enjoyed the thrill of the chase with Michael even if it only led to some groping in the bathroom.

The thing was, Dean was tired and it was late. Things were bad enough with Sam that Dean didn't want to make it worse.

He bought Michael one more drink and hit the road.

It was cold out in the night air after the smokey closedness of the run-down bar. He trudged along the road slowly with his hands stuffed in his pockets. It wasn't like he was in a rush to get back to the room. Dean kind of hoped that Sam would be sleeping when Dean got back there.

When he approached the Motel Dean took a few deep breaths before heading around the back of the motel to their rom. There was a light on in the window and Dean swore under his breath.

He put his key in the lock and opened the door.

Sam was at the desk again, on his laptop. He didn't look up when Dean stumbled into the room.

When Sam stayed silent Dean headed over to the small fridge and grabbed himself a beer. He headed over to his bed and sat down. It sure felt familiar. Dean was starting to realize that he spent a lot of time looking at his brother's tense back outlined by the flow of the laptop screen. He was even starting to feel a little bitter about it.

"Did ya have a nice evening, Sam?" Dean took a drink of beer and then set it down. He fumbled with the lamp for a few seconds then managed to turn it on.

"Was fine," Sam muttered.

Dean began emptying out his jacket pockets. There was a book of matches, his car keys, a knotted up straw and a handful of peanuts that he promptly ate. "What'd you do?"

"Nothing."

Dean couldn't help smiling. He was obviously still in trouble with his brother. Sometimes time apart gave Sam a chance to cool down but there were times when it just left Sam stewing.

Dean should really just be quiet and go to sleep. But, there was something tantalizing about poking the bear with a stick. "You gonna move on to complete sentences at some point or should I just give up now?"

"Oh. I'm _sorry_ , Dean. Did you want to have a conversation about something? I wouldn't want you to be sitting there without anyone to talk to." There was the distinct bite of sarcasm in Sam's voice. Dean wasn't drunk enough to miss _that_.

"No need to be an asshole, Sam." Dean let his jackets slid off his shoulders and had another drink of beer.

Sam turned on the chair so he could glare at his brother. "Not drunk enough already?"

There were a variety of possible responses that flitted through Dean's mind. "I don't think I'm drunk enough to deal with you."

"Is that why you drink so much? To make it easier to be around me?" Sam's expression hardened and he stood up.

Dean wasn't sure what Sam was going to do for a few moments then, as he watched, Sam paced over and sat down opposite Dean on the other bed.

"What?" Dean bent down and untied his boots.

"What's going on?"

"What?" Dean asked again. He tugged at his plaid shirt and pulled it off then toed his boots off.

"Why are we doing this?" Sam asked. His cheeks were ruddy and his bottom lip red as though he'd been chewing on it.

"We just had a stupid fight. I went to drink. You stayed here sulking. Now we're still having the same fight." Dean though that pretty much summed it up.

"It's more than that, Dean. It started with this whole part of your life that you'd hidden from me. We haven't really talked about it." Hurt was written all over Sam's face.

Dean turned his head away and pushed his keys away from the edge of the table. He didn't really know what to say. He felt like there was no _reason_. He hadn't made a conscious decision to keep it from Sam. The idea of telling Sam about it just made Dean feel really uncomfortable. It seemed like something that Dean needed to keep from his brother.

"Sam, I didn't make some _decision_ to keep something from you," Dean said. "I told you before ... we. We just don't talk about stuff like that."

"But you didn't _ever_ mention you were with a guy. I've heard you talk about waitresses with perfect hips or a nice ass. You've never _once_ said anything about a guy."

"Why does it matter?" Dean said louder than he intended. He didn't have answers and the more Sam asked, the worse Dean felt.

"Because _we_ matter!" Sam answered just as loudly.

"Jesus, Sam. Can't we just move in? Just be normal? You know now." Dean rubbed at his thighs and stared at Sam trying to read him.

"God, you just don't get it, do you, Dean?"

"Okay." Dean slapped his hands on his thighs then stood. "Tonight, I went to the bar just up the road. Met this dude named Michael. He was taller than me, dirty blonde hair. Good kisser. We met up in the bathroom-"

"Oh, fuck off." Sam stood and walked over to the chair where his jacket was hanging. He pulled it off the chair and spun to glare at Dean. "You know I'm not asking for a play by play. I just don't wanna be shut out of your life completely."

Dean rolled his eyes and stood slowly. Not only was his back aching, but he was so tired he could sleep for a week. when he got to Sam's side he was already getting into his jacket.

"Where are you goin', Sam? It's like, three in the morning." It wasn't that Dean figured Sam couldn't take care of himself; it just seemed important that he not let Sam leave.

"I need some air and I need to get away from you," Sam said in a tight voice.

"Just because you didn't know I pick up men sometimes?" Dean's brain was starting to hurt. There were times when he felt as though Sam spoke a completely different language.

"No. Because you _think_ that's what it's all about." Sam strode over to the door, yanked it open and was gone.

The slam of the door was still ringing in Dean's ears when he dropped his head and groaned. It _really_ hadn't taken long for that to escalate. Admittedly, he'd headed back to the motel knowing that Sam would still be pissed off. His brother didn't usually storm off though. That was Dean's schtick.

Dean headed back over to his bed and sat down. He wasn't sure how long Sam was going to be but he figured he'd be back soon.

 

-=-=-=-

When the motel room door opened over an hour after Sam had stormed out, Dean was furious. It had been a long day, a long night and he was pretty pissed off that Sam had disappeared for over an hour.

"Where the fuck were you?" Dean said in a gravelly voice. He'd spent an hour watching TV and packing. He just wanted some sleep.

Sam shot his brother a look as he locked the door behind him. "I was out, _Dean_."

Apparently they weren't going to get very far. Dean shook his head and sighed. "Okay. I'm too tired for your shit. I'm going to bed."

"My shit?" Sam muttered.

"Yes, _your_ shit," Dean answered. He had officially used up all his patience. He yanked his t-shirt off over his head and threw it in the general direction of his bag. He was unbuckling his belt when he heard Sam swearing under his breath. "What now?"

"I'm tired of this," Sam said firmly.

"I'm tired of a lot of things: motels, bad food, never being thanked, listening to you bitch. You wanna be more specific?"

"This wall between us. We should know pretty much everything about each other and we're almost strangers."

"Ohhh, we _are_ not. I know everything about you. I practically raised you." Dean sank down onto the end of his bed and crossed one leg over his knee so he could pull a sock off.

"And we were apart for a long fucking time before you came to get me You were never part of that at all."

Sam's words felt like a knife driving into Dean's throat. "I left you alone because that was what you wanted."

"How do you know?" Sam threw his jacket onto the chair forcefully.

There _had_ to be more going on with Sam than he was telling. Dean had always known his younger brother could be a bit volatile when it came to family issues but his behavior was crossing into uncharted territory.

"Okay. That's _enough_ , Sam. Either tell me what the fuck is going on or let this go and let me get some fuckin' sleep." Dean said firmly.

"I keep telling you, Dean. You're just not hearing me."

"Don't give me that psycho-babble shit."

"You. Don't. Listen."

"I do listen, Sam. I listen all the fucking day and half the damn night to you."

"Well, it's not working," Sam spat. "If you knew anything about me you'd know to just leave me alone."

Dean stood and strode over to his brother. He grabbed two fists full of Sam's shirt and shoved his back against the wall by the door. "I'm done leavin' you alone."

"Fuck off," Sam growled. He grabbed Dean's arms and tried to break the grip on his shirt.

"What do you want from me, Sam? What?" Dean slammed his brother back against the wall a little harder.

Sam shook his head and struggled harder.

To throw his brother off balance Dean kicked Sam's legs apart and moved one of his hands so he could press his forearm to Sam's throat. "You need to tell me what has got you so worked up."

Sam's eyes widened momentarily then his lashes fluttered closed.

Frowning, Dean tilted his head slightly and studied his brother's face. A red blush had crept up Sam's throat, his lips were glistening and he was panting. There was sweat beading on Sam's brow but he stayed silent.

"Sam, talk," Dean ordered. 

When Sam opened his eyes they were glassy with tears. "Sam?"

"Don't. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

" _Jesus_ , Sam. Are things between us really so bad that you can't even talk to me?"

Sam's eyes flitted over Dean's face. He stared at his brother's lips for a few moment then he looked back up at Dean's eyes. "Dean, let me go."

Shaking his head, Dean moved his hands to Sam's shoulders and held him there against the wall. "You talk to me or we're standing here until breakfast."

Sam let his head fall forward and Dean curled his hand over the back of his brother's neck. He squeezed and leaned forward to press his forehead against Sam's. "We gotta make this right, Sammy."

Truth be told, Dean felt like they'd spent enough time fighting. If it kept festering it would eventually cause a problem when they were hunting. Distraction meant mistakes and mistakes were damned dangerous for a hunter.

The skin on the nape of Sam's' neck was hot to the touch. His breath was steamy on Dean's lips. All Dean wanted was for Sam to _talk_ ; explain what was going on. It wasn't like Sam to be so closed up and silent. It felt as though he had one foot out the door and Dean didn't want his brother to leave.

Sam shifted his feet, his boots scuffed at the carpet. His long fingers slid over Dean's hips. His forehead rolled against Dean's.

Sam let out a frustrated groan and leaned down further so his lips could brush against Dean's.

The touch was so light, so brief, and Dean was able to _almost_ convince himself there'd been no contact.

Then it happened again. Sam's mouth was soft, his lips smooth and fuller than Dean expected. _Expected?_ Dean's mind was racing; his heart was pounding and he held onto Sam and pulled him closer.

Pressed together, the brothers’ mouths kept moving. Wet and hot, Sam's mouth moved along Dean's jaw and Dean began to tremble. What the _fuck_ was he doing?

Dean's body moved faster than his brain and he loosened his grip on Sam so he could rest them against Sam's chest. He shoved hard and the thump of Sam's back against the wall shook Dean to his core. He held his hands up and away from Sam then stepped back, still staring wide-eyed into Sam's eyes.

"Dean?"

"No. I. I'm going to sleep. That was. We can't-" Dean's heart was racing so fast it felt as though he was going to die. He _should_ die.

The kiss might have been a complete shock at first but Dean had kissed Sam back. Every part of Dean's body had responded almost immediately. It was fucked up and probably the single most confusing thing that Dean had ever been through.

"Dean," Sam began again. "Don't walk away. I'm sorry. I ..." But even Sam _talk-about-your-feelings_ Winchester seemed to have run out of words.

All Dean did was shake his head. He took another step backwards and held up his hand to stop anything that Sam might be considering doing or saying. He couldn't handle anything else that evening; especially not from Sam.

Dean undid his belt and kicked out of his jeans. He moved slowly and automatically, unable to really process what had happened. Sam had _kissed_ him and Dean had _wanted_ it to continue. He wasn't sure how to live with that.

He climbed into his bed and rolled onto his side so he was facing away from Sam. There was no way he could risk making eye contact with Sam; he wasn't sure what he would say or do. He'd never felt quite as lost as he felt lying there in that shitty motel room. And it was the only time he'd ever felt alone with Sam still in the room.

For a while, Sam was still and quiet. Eventually Dean heard his brother climb into his own bed. The bed springs creaked and Sam turned the lamp off.

Dean welcomed the darkness. His eyes were still wide open even though he couldn't see much around him. Everything between him and Sam had changed and Dean would give his soul to change everything back.

-=-=-=-

Dean must have managed to fall asleep because he woke up at first light. He sat up as quietly as he could. When he looked over at Sam's bed he could see his brother was still sleeping.

Sam was still dressed, was lying on his side and his hands were clenched into fists. Even while he slept there was a frown on his face.

It seemed out of place on Sam's sleeping face. Dean sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. He pushed away the vivid memories of the night before and got out of bed.

His clothes were right where he'd left them the night before. He slipped on the same clothes and pulled his boots on then laced them up. He crept over to the door after picking up his keys and slipped outside.

It was colder than Dean expected and he pulled his jacket closed. A pang of guilt pulled tight in Dean's chest. Sam would probably flip out when he woke up to an otherwise empty motel room.

Surely Sam would see that Dean had left his bag, his weapons and know that Dean would be back.

Time alone was what Dean needed. _Time_ was his only hope of figuring out a way to deal with what had happened. Things between him and Sam needed to be fixed.

The black paint of the Impala glinted in the early morning light. Dean unlocked the door and sank down onto the familiar seat. He ran his hand over the smooth steering wheel a couple of times and then started up the car.

Because the engine was so loud Dean shifted the car into reverse quickly and pulled around the motel building and out onto the road.

He heaved a sigh of relief once he was out on the road. This was Dean's home; being on the move. So, he drove.

That was how Dean spent the day. It wasn't really a deliberate decision to avoid Sam that kept him away. Dean just needed some time to sort out his thoughts and feelings. He drove until he was hungry and then stopped at a diner for a _Lumberjack_ breakfast.

With a full stomach Dean climbed back into the car and drove to a lake that he'd seen on a map that was pinned to the diner wall.

If there was one thing Dean missed it was taking some time off to stay at a cabin, do some fishing or swim until he was frozen. They had no time to take vacations from hunting. It felt like something they needed to keep doing.

The road Dean followed to the lake ended in a small picnic area. There was no one there and Dean parked the car so that he could sit on the weathered picnic table near the lake shore.

It was a beautiful spot. It was the kind of place that Dean could stay for days.

His phone rang a couple of times during the day. Sam left two messages but Dean didn't listen to them. When a text arrived later; that was also Sam.

_**Sammy** : u ok? When you coming back?_

Dean didn't answer the text either. One day of silence was all that he needed.

He knew sam would worry about all kinds of stupid shit. Hell, he'd worry that Dean had gone off to do something stupid But Dean had trouble thinking with all the usual noise around him. Just the sound of the lake water lapping against the shore, the wind in the trees and some birds was enough for Dean.

After a while Dean tilted his head back and stared up at the greying clouds in the sky. "What do we do now, Sam?" Dean asked the wind.

-=-=-=-

After a while Dean stopped bothering to check the time. He sat until he was stiff and shivering, then walked until it began to rain. When he finally climbed into the car the sun had nearly dipped below the horizon.

He began the drive back to the motel room with a heavy heart and a sick feeling in his stomach. It could be hunger but it could also be that he'd done nothing but worry all day.

When he hit the town limits Dean drove to the first drive-thru for a burger and a coffee. He needed some fortification if he was going to face his brother.

He ate as he drove and was halfway through the burger when he turned into the motel parking lot.

The window of their room was lit up and Dean stopped the car near the entrance. He could see Sam clearly in the yellowish lamplight. He was pacing back and forth in front of the window talking on his phone. He looked more angry than worried and Dean wondered if his brother had been in the room all day.

It looked like Sam finished his call. He stood there in the room for a few seconds and then threw his phone _hard_ against the headboard.

It was at that moment when Dean realized he wasn't in the right frame of mind to deal with Sam.

The engine revved loudly as Dean punched the gas pedal and spun the car around so he could head back out on the road. Sam would probably recognize the growl of the Impala but Dean didn't care.

He drove to a bar past the outskirts of town that he'd noticed when they'd arrived. It looked like it might cater to his tastes and if not, well, he could drink and eat until he felt better able to deal with Sam's anger.

-=-=-=-

Dean had been right about the bar. There were a handful of women but the patrons were predominantly men.

There was a young, fit man with shoulder-length dark hair at the bar and Dean headed over to sit beside him. He'd never been one to play hard to get. "Okay if I sit here?"

The young man looked up at Dean and nodded. He had dark green eyes and was muscular. The thinness of youth still shaped his body and he was slender. His long fingers were circling a beer bottle so Dean gestured to it when the bartender asked what he wanted. "You live here?"

"In the bar?" The young man smiled.

Dean returned the smile and shook his head. "I can't even remember the name of the town we're in."

That made the young man laugh. "It's not worth remembering. And yeah, I'm from here. I take it you're not?"

"No," Dean answered. The bartender set a beer in front of Dean and he took a drink. "I travel a lot for work."

"Lucky. I'm Gabriel." He held out his hand.

Dean turned on the bar stool so he could shake Gabriel's hand. "Like the archangel."

Gabriel's eyes widened. "I'm no angel."

"In that case, my name is Dean." He grinned and turned back to the bar.

"I don't know any reference for the name Dean," Gabriel said as he looked thoughtful.

"You know? That is _very_ okay with me."

Both men smiled and Dean felt some of the tension begin to drain slowly from his body.

-=-=-=-

Three hours later Dean was still nursing a second beer and Gabriel had an inebriated sparkle in his eyes as he leaned over the pool table. Dean had lost track of how many beers the guy had ordered but he wasn't nearly as articulate as he'd been when Dean first met him.

Gabriel missed his shot and Dean sank the eight ball to win. He grinned and slid his cue back back into the wall rack.

"I think you hustled me." Gabriel was grinning.

" _I_ think you've had too many beers and it's not hustling when there's no money on the table." Still grinning, Dean picked up his beer and gestured towards the bar. "Let's sit you down before you _fall_ down."

"I'm not gonna fall down," Gabriel said _right_ before he tripped and fell into Dean.

Fortunately, Dean's hunting reflexes kicked in and he caught Gabriel under the shoulder. "Whoa there, you tryin'a take me out?"

Gabriel slapped his hand into Dean's chest. "No way, Man. You're pretty awesome."

Dean laughed. "I got a brother you should talk to."

"What?"

"Nothing." Dean steered his new friend back towards the bar. "You should have a coffee."

"Wide awake drunk," Gabriel announced as though he knew the answer to a really tricky question.

The guy might be drunk but he was amusing and he was a distraction. Dean shook his head and got Gabriel up onto the bar stool. When he caught the bartender's eye Dean mouthed _coffee_."

"Seriously," Gabriel said. "I'm not all that drunk. I'm just havin' a good time. People here ... _men_ here can be average. There's something really interesting about you." There was a warm smile on Gabriel's' face.

"I have some great qualities," Dean said but it sounded pretty hollow to him.

"What's your brother like?"

That was the biggest question Dean had been asked in a while. "He's ... a pretty good guy but we're very different."

Gabriel nodded and leaned back against the bar. He stretched his arm out along the bar and rested it against Dean's back.

"Does he look like you?" Gabriel's hand was pressed to Dean's back.

"Sammy? Nah. I look like our Dad and Sam looks more like our Mom." Dean looked over at Gabriel. "He looks a little like you."

For some reason realization settled heavily on Dean's shoulders. He stared at Gabriel for a while. He had the same long, shaggy hair as Sam. He was tall and lean. Gabriel was a bit more muscular than Sam. But it was _there_. Dean closed his eyes against the surge of emotion that was making it difficult for him to breathe.

Gabriel slid his hand up to the back of Dean's neck. His fingers were warm. "You got quiet there, Dean."

All Dean could do was nod. Then when he looked up he saw Sam striding towards him. He slid off the stool and squared his shoulders in time to brace himself.

"I've been worried about you all fucking day and you're in here with the flavor of the day," Sam shouted.

Dean's heart was pounding as adrenaline raced through his veins. He sensed Gabriel getting to his feet and held his arms out between the two men. "Sam. Calm down. Don't do this here."

Eyes widening, Sam took a deep breath and stabbed his finger into Dean's chest. "You only think of yourself, Dean. Did you even think about me today while you were ... were ..." Sam gestured dismissively at Gabriel.

Dean stumbled forward a step when Gabriel reached over his shoulder to smack Sam's hand away. "You need to calm down, Buddy."

"And _you_ need to stay out of this. It's none of your business," Sam spat.

The next thing Dean knew he was struggling to keep Sam and Gabriel apart. The bartender looked over at them and the last thing that the Winchesters needed was an encounter with the cops.

"Sam. Back off!" Dean grabbed the front of Sam's jacket and shook him roughly. Fortunately Gabriel stayed quiet.

For a moment it looked like Sam would calm down and then he took a swing at Dean and connected with his jaw. A few seconds passed before Dean could look at Sam. His jaw ached where the punch had landed and Dean rubbed at it.

"Dean? You okay?" Gabriel asked. His fingers curled over Dean's shoulder.

"I'm fine, Gabriel."

"Gabriel? _Jesus_. But then. This is an improvement for you, Dean. You actually know his name." There was an angry red blush on Sam's cheek and his eyes blazed with anger.

The words cut into Dean and he sighed. "You know what, Sam? You wanna get into a fight with someone you don't even know and get arrested? Feel free." Dean shoved Sam out of his way so forcefully that Sam caught himself on the bar and knocked over two glasses.

Dean didn't stick around to see the aftermath. He needed to get away from his brother before he said something he'd spend the rest of his life regretting.

He lengthened his stride as he crossed the bar to leave through the swinging front doors.

The evening air forced its way into Dean's lungs and it felt a little easier to breathe. No one knotted him up inside like Sam did, _no one._

-=-=-=-

As far back as Dean could remember Sam had been crazy. Sam just seemed to be able to say things and do things that left Dean without any idea of how to respond. It was like all his orgams got snarled up and he felt trapped in the pain.

Dean walked straight to the car and rested his clasped hands on the roof. He watched the door for a while to see if Sam was going to emerge. But there was no sign of Sam so Dean climbed into the car and headed back to the motel.

The drive wasn't nearly long enough for Dean to calm down. His heart was still beating like a bass drum. He could understand Sam being pissed that he hadn't heard from Dean all day but the way Sam had stormed into the pub was over the line. The look on Sam's face made it seem more like his brother was feeling territorial. He seemed far more pissed off at the guy Dean was with rather than Dean himself. It wasn't like Sam to take out his temper on a stranger. Hell, it was usually Dean who lost his temper, not easy-going Sam. Maybe Dean was getting under his brother's skin too.

When Dean got to the motel room the light was still on. Sam must have left in a hurry.

Dean unlocked the door and headed inside. He took in the state of the room.

Sam had obviously spent most of the day at the motel.

That made Dean feel a smidge guilty. But it wasn't like Sam _had_ to worry about him. He was more than capable of taking care of himself. It was about the only thing Dean felt good about.

There was a lukewarm pizza on the table with only one piece missing. Dean grabbed a slice as he walked past the table. Pepperoni. Sam always went too light on the toppings.

He took a bit and sat down. The laptop was still on and Dean poked at the mouse to make the screen light up, _xxx.videos.com_. "Oh, Sammy. And here I thought you were worried about me."

The video on the screen loaded and then Dean saw that the video was two men who were lying naked on lounge chairs beside a hot tub. Dean didn't continue watching to see if they ended up _in_ the hot tub. He closed the screen and took another bite of pizza.

There were papers spread out all over the table. It looked as though Sam had been trying to track down another case. There were some newspaper clippings about some missing girls in Colorado. Arizona had what looked a lot like a haunting. Either Sam had been collecting stuff for a while or Dean was wrong about his brother staying in the room all day.

As Dean looked around he took another bite of pizza. There were a few empty pop cans, a rumpled towel on the end of Sam's bed, the beds were still unmade.

Dean picked some pepperoni off some of the other slices of pizza and dropped them on his half-eaten slice. It wasn't like Sam would eat it. He always threw away pizza that was left out, food poisoning or some shit.

Chewing loudly, primarily because it irritated Sam when he was around, Dean sat down. After a while he picked up the remote and turned the movie channel on.

The TV screen flickered to life and Dean immediately recognized it as _Jaws_. "Sweet."

He took another slice of pizza and one of the unopened sodas and went over to his bed to get comfortable. Sam would come back sooner rather than later; Sam always came back.

-=-=-=-

Nearly three hours passed before Dean heard a key in the door. Dean took a deep breath and steeled himself for the next round.

The door finally swung open and Sam stepped into the room.

"Sammy. Good timing. It's _Jaws II_ just started and that cousin chick is about to lose her shit. Some of the worst acting I've ever seen." When Dean heard the door close he looked up.

Sam was looking a little dishevelled and was swaying slightly. At first Dean thought his brother had managed to find the fight he'd been looking for. He narrowed his gaze and took in Sam's  
heavy-lidded eyes and the ruddiness of his cheeks.

"Sam? Are you drunk?" Dean's eyebrows lifted and he muted the TV.

Sam pushed his hair back off his face clumsily and shook his head. "I had a couple of drinks with your Gabriel."

"He isn't _my_ anything but I'm pleased you didn't continue to pick a fight with him.”

"I could have kicked his ass," Sam murmured. He stumbled slightly and leaned back against the wall.

Shaking his head, Dean climbed off his bed and headed over to his brother before he slid down the wall. Sam didn't have nearly enough practice at drinking.

"Okay, Sammy. Let's get you onto the bed before you break your neck." He grabbed the front of Sam's jacket and heaved him off the wall.

"M'fine, Dean. Fuck off." When Sam tried to knock his brother's hands away he ended up lying against Dean's chest.

"Ooof. _Jesus_. Yeah, Sam. You don't need any help at all." Dean slid his arm under Sam's and held him up as they moved clumsily towards the bed.

Sam's breath was hot and moist against Dean's jaw and all he could smell was booze. It seemed that Sam had really committed himself to getting hammered.

"You should have eaten more before you went swimming in a barrel of whisky, Sam." Dean manhandled his brother onto the bed and steadied him with one hand until he was sure Sam would sit there.

"I. There was pizza but I was _really_ mad at you," Sam said.

"I could see that." The little nipping of guilt was back and Dean rubbed at his chest.

"Your Gabriel wasn't such a bad guy. We talked a long time. He helped me to understand." Sam's eyes were a little bleary and he blinked slowly as he looked up at his brother.

"He's _not_ my Gabriel and what did you have to understand?" More than a little confused Dean leaned in and pushed Sam's jacket off his shoulders.

Sam looked like he was trying to help get his arms out of the sleeves but it wasn't very successful. He fell sideways and laughed softly into the pillow he'd landed on. He said something but all Dean could hear were some muffled words.

"What?" Dean hauled Sam up by his arm and crouched down in front of him.

"I said that he helped me understand you. Because of me and how messed up I am." Sam's hair had fallen forward and covered his eyes.

"You're not messed up, Sam. Well, no more than anyone else would be who had lived your life." Dean grabbed the hem of Sam's t-shirt and pulled it off over his head.

Sam blew at his hair but it was still hanging in his eyes so Dean swept it back.

There was a sad smile on Sam's face when he next looked up at Dean. "I'm messed up in the head, Dean."

"No, you're not," Dean said firmly. He pressed his hand to Sam's chest and stared into his brother's eyes.

"Yeah, because I was jealous," Sam muttered.

Dean unlaced his brother's boots and pulled them off. He smiled and unbuckled Sam's belt. "I don't spend that much time out. And dude, you could totally pick someone up if you even bothered to try."

"There was you and I left. Then Jess. Jess was good. It was peaceful with her. Then you were back and I figured you wanted me in your life." Sam looked a bit confused himself.

"Of course I did. I can't - well, I could hunt alone but I don't like it." Dean shrugged. It was a bit more complicated than that but Dean wasn't sure he understood all the nuances himself.

"I thought it was more," Sam said.

"What was more? Take your jeans off. I'm not doing that." Dean's gaze travelled down Sam's chest then to the dusting of dark hair just above his waistband. He took a deep breath and forced himself to look away.

"You more. I thought there was more to you wanting me around. More than hunting." Sam's belt clanked as he tugged at it before pulling his jeans off.

When Dean glanced over at Sam he thought his brother looked really miserable.

"Of course there is, Sam. We're family. I know I bitch about you all the time but you're the second best hunter in the world." Dean grinned and tousled Sam's hair then shoved him down on the bed.

"No!!" Sam said a little too loudly.

"Hey there. Tone it down, bro. Don't take this out on me."

"You don't understand," Sam said weakly. He managed to pull the quilt up to his waist before rolling over and flopping face down on the pillow.

"I don't understand because you're drunk," Dean said. The strange thing was that he was beginning to worry about what Sam was trying to say.

"No, 'cause it's wrong."

Dean could barely hear Sam because his face was smashed into the pillow. He sat down at Sam's side and tried to move Sam's hair out of the way. "What's wrong, Sam?"

"My head. Things in my head. The way I wished it was me."

Dean closed his eyes and shook his head. The more Sam spoke, the less sense he made. After the slightest hesitation Dean rested his hand on Sam's shoulder. He was always hot to the touch. 

"What things in your head, Sammy?" Brow furrowed, eyes focused on Sam, Dean smoothed his hand over Sam's shoulder and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Wished I was the guy you wanted. Me." Sam rolled slightly and there were tears on his cheeks.

Dean stayed silent, not wanting to stop Sam from speaking. He held his breath as he thought about what Sam had said. _Wished I was the guy you wanted._

Something dark and enticing began to uncoil inside Dean. His brain fought with the surge of feeling that was threatening his sanity. No. Sam was drunk and confused.

Sam's hand banged against the nightstand as he reached out. Dean grabbed Sam's wrist. "Sam-"

"I know. It's wrong. M'sorry, Dean." Sam's wet lashes fell to his cheeks and he groaned quietly. "Just don't hate me."

Dean's head was spinning. "I could _never_ hate you, Sammy. Never." No matter what Sam had said; no matter what crazy thoughts he'd hand. _Hate_ wouldn't factor into it. But _Christ_.

In spite of everything that went rattling around in Dean's mind he reached up and smoothed Sam's hair back from his forehead. "Sleep it off, Sam. Sleep it off, okay?"

A slight smile tugged at the corners of Sam's mouth and he leaned harder against Dean's hand.

Everything inside Dean was knotted up and aching and he squeezed his eyes shut tight. He needed sleep, a drink, or both.

-=-=-=-

There was something warming Dean's face as he clawed his way closer to awake. His hand slapped onto his face and rubbed at his cheek.

When he managed to crack one eye open Dean was blasted with light. The curtains were open _just_ wide enough to send a beam of sunlight right at him. "Fuck off."

He reached out and swiped at the curtain until it was closed. It was a pretty shitty way to wake up. He'd hardly gotten any sleep. For at least an hour after Sam had passed out Dean had sat there staring at his brother. He'd run over and over what Sam had said as he tried to make sense of it all.

As soon as his mind drifted back to the previous night's events, Dean felt the weight of it settling down on his chest. He looked over at Sa to find his brother awake.

"Hey," Dean said. They'd had a lot of quiet conversations over the years while they lay awake in the morning light separated only by a night stand and some old carpet.

"Hey." Sam rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

It wasn't going to be easy to get Sam to talk, obviously. "You hungover?"

"Yup."

"Is it bad?"

Sam shrugged. "Could be worse."

Dean sighed. "You remember everything you said when you got back here last night?" Sadly, it was more Dean's style to black out.

"I remember," Sam said quietly.

"Okay," Dean said. "So. I guess we should talk." He rolled onto his side and propped his head up with his hand.

"Let's just forget about last night all together," Sam said firmly.

"Really, Sam?" Any other time Dean would have been ecstatic if Sam said he didn't want to talk something out. This ... the words that were still hanging between them seemed like something they should definitely talk about. It was exactly the type of thing that would fester between them until someone threw a punch ... usually Dean. He couldn't remember the last time Sam had punched first.

"When was the last time you punched me?" Dean asked.

Sam's head whipped towards his brother. "What?"

"Nevermind." At least Dean had his brother's undivided attention. "So. What are we gonna do?"

Sam shrugged again but he didn't look away. Dean figured that was a good start.

"How long?" Dean asked the question quietly as though he didn't want to wreck the moment.

A smile appeared briefly on Sam's face before disappearing completely. "Since, well, since before I left for college."

Dean nodded but Sam kept talking.

"I used to wonder if Dad could see that something was messed up inside me. Maybe that was why he hated me so much."

"He _never_ hated you, Sam. You and Dad were just different." It felt to Dean as though they'd had the discussion a thousand times.

"Well, maybe he could sense _just_ how different I was," Sam answered. There was no malice in his voice; only sadness.

"This isn't about Dad; it's about you and me." Dean didn't want them to get off track before they had really even started talking.

"Look, Dean. I know what I told you. I just - we need to just forget about it. It's never affected our work before and I won't let it affect anything in the future, okay?" Sam ran his thumb along his bottom lip and turned his head towards the window.

"No, Sam," Dean said firmly. "It's not okay-"

"-You think I don't _know_ that? You think I haven't beaten myself up every time I've had a ... thought about you?" Sam struggled to sit up and stared over at Dean. "It's been like this for me since I was sixteen, Dean. Why do you think I was in such a rush to get to college in the first place? I couldn't .. I didn't even know how to be around you." Sam's voice had an edge of tension to it.

Sixteen years old and Dean had, somehow, managed to miss that his brother _wanted_ him. But then the sixteen year old, lanky kid brother was nothing like the muscular man sitting across from him. The problem was that there was _no_ way that Dean could simply forget the things Sam had said.

The strange fluttering sensation was back in Dean's chest. It was the faintest hint of something that he wasn't prepared to deal with. "You left because of me."

"No," Sam said quickly. "I left because of me." Sam flipped back the cover on his bed and swung his legs out to sit on the edge of the bed facing Dean.

It was like a switch had been flipped in Dean's brain. There was no way he could look at Sam anymore without the way Sam felt about him lurking around in his mind. Knowing it changed everything.

Dean's eyes trailed across Sam's chest, along his strong shoulders then up his flushed neck. "I know how you feel, Sam. So everything is different now. _Very_ different."

"I can leave. I understand-"

"What the fuck do you understand, Sam? You throw this at me and then you give me two options. We never mention it again or you leave? Well, I wasn't pissed off until now. _Fuck_ you, Sam. You're just gonna blow it off like nothing happened."

Sam opened his mouth to speak and Dean silenced him with a glare. "This doesn't go away. You've changed - I mean. I feel. It's different now." Dean wasn't even sure what he was trying to say. There were things happening inside him that he couldn't even explain. But if Dean knew anything it was that it wouldn't just disappear.

A loot approaching desperation appeared on Sam's face. "You feel different about me now."

"Not. Well, I mean ..." Dean shrugged. He was trying really hard not to lie to Sam. But there were things being stirred up that Dean wasn't prepared to put out there.

"It's okay." Sam folded his arms across his bare chest. He'd never looked so defeated before. "I get it. You're creeped out. Who wouldn't be?"

"No," Dean answered quickly. "You don't _creep me out_. You're my brother, Sam. Nothing changes that."

Dean kicked his covers off and shifted so he was sitting opposite Sam. He reached for Sam's knee and then changed his mind and grabbed his own thigh. "D'you wanna see someone?"

"What?" Sam's eyes widened.

"A psychiatrist or something?"

"Seriously?" Sam's brow furrowed and his face disappeared behind his hands.

"I'm just trying to find a first step here, Sam."

"I'm not insane, Dean. Have you looked at yourself lately? It's not like-" Sam seemed to suddenly realize what he was saying and his jaw snapped shut.

For a couple of seconds, Dean wasn't sure whether to say anything or not. "I've got a question."

Looking a little hesitant, Sam nodded. "Okay."

"You've never - I've never seen you want guys. Not that I was watching which would be totally creepy. Okay, more than creepy-"

"Okay. Okay. I get it." Sam was quiet for a while. He unfolded his arms and clasped his hands together. His knuckles were white with the strength of his grasp.

Dean was a little relieved that he didn't have to keep talking.

"A couple times in college. But it was never about _men_ or _women_. I mean ... Jess was. She was amazing. Loving, sweet, tough." Sam's voice wavered and he dropped his gaze. "But I didn't even know what it was with you."

Dean reached down to the bottom of the bed and grabbed his t-shirt. He pulled it on quickly, he'd suddenly felt a little weird.

"When I was a kid, a teenager even. I felt better when I was sitting next to you than anywhere else." Sam unclasped his hands to rub them over his face. "I guess I wanted to leave when I realized the way I felt was fucked up."

"And all this time you kept it from me."

"Just like you didn't tell me you were gay -"

"I'm not gay," Dean protested.

"Okay. Whatever it is that makes you have sex with men." Sam was clearly getting frustrated.

For Dean the whole conversation was feeling more and more uncomfortable. He was having moments of absolute disbelief that they were even _having_ a conversation about having sex with men. It was all more than a little surreal.

"Okay," Dean said finally. "We both kept our secrets. Now we've got all that out we need to move forward."

Sam took in a deep breath and shook his head slowly.

"Sam?"

"I don't know what to do now."

Dean smiled slightly. "Me either, Sammy. Me either." This would be the part that Dean had been dreading. He'd have to get up off the bed and put his jeans on, then walk around the room like he would every other morning. And the problem was that it would feel so fucking different that he might go insane.

Sam ran a hand through his hair and Dean rubbed his eyes. Then both men stood at the same time.

The closeness of Sam's body made Dean's stomach flip. He could feel heat radiating from his brother's body and it made the hair stand up on the nape of his neck.

Sam blinked a few times and turned his head slowly until his breath was ghosting over Dean's cheek.

All the air in Dean's lungs felt like it seeped out slowly and he struggled to swallow. "You gonna shower?"

As Dean watched, Sam's tongue ran over his bottom lip. It sent little shivers skittering down Dean's spine.

Sam nodded.

Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl. Dean took a step to the side and turned his head away.

 _Yeah_. He was right. Everything was going to be completely different.

Just as they had stood at the same time, they both began to move around the room at the same time. 

_Just like normal._

-=-=-=-

Odd little things had changed between Sam and Dean. For the most part it wasn't anything unpleasant.

Dean was more aware of Sam's presence. It wasn't that he had ever ignored Sam but he just seemed to notice more. He noticed when Sam's gaze lingered, he could feel heat from Sam's body when they stood close together. There were times when Dean would catch himself watching the way Sam moved. At some point Sam had morphed from gangly teenager to an athletically lean man.

Dean felt like he was being a little different when he spoke to Sam too. He paid more attention to the words he chose. There was no real explanation for it. Maybe it was the realization that he hadn't really ever _known_ all of Sam.

_Things were different._

They didn't talk about _it_. There was no mention made of Sam's feelings for Dean. When days passed and it wasn't mentioned Dean started to wonder if he'd imagined it - or, somehow, gotten everything wrong.

But he _knew_ he hadn't.

And that was how things went.

Then there was a hunt.

"I think it's an Alp," Sam said.

"A what now?"

"Alp is the German name but it's also called a nightmare." Sam pushed a book across the table towards his brother.

There was an old sketch of a diminutive man who was lurking in the corner of a dark bedroom. "Creepy."

Nodding, Sam retrieved the book. "All the lore is a bit contradictory but i'm seeing a pattern here."

Sam closed the book and set it aside so he could spread out some photocopies of newspaper articles. "The short version is that I found five people who were killed after suffering with horrific nightmares. There were teeth marks on their necks and collarbones but they weren't exsanguinated.

"Chock full of blood?"

"Yup, who the hell knows what they are feeding on. Fear? Hormones? The nightmares have to be the key. Why else would this have developed the way it did?"

The key part seemed clear to Dean. "So what do we do to catch it and put it out of commission?"

"Well," Sam scratched his head. "We make sure we know what it is. We figure out how to nail the thing I guess."

"Get busy then, Mr. Research." Dean was relieved they were working on _something_. Maybe it would take their minds off the _different_ until they figured out where it fit.

-=-=-=-

Suits fit Dean well. He was the kind of guy who could race into a store, pull things off the rack and they fit just right. Sam wasn't so lucky.

A good fit didn't mean that Dean liked wearing a suit. It never seemed as uncomfortable as he feared but they were hot and stiff.

As he tugged at his tie Dean leaned against the Admission desk on the first floor of the hospital.

"Agent Greer," Sam said to the Charge Nurse. "This is Agent Eharts."

"Oh, we didn't expect you gentleman," said Nurse _Avery_.

Dean looked up from the cut of Nurse Avery's top which happened to be where her name tag was positioned. "We're here to go over some of the patient records and speak to the witness."

Nurse Avery smiled at Dean and straightened her scrubs. "I'll take you to the patient first."

The Winchesters followed the nurse in her star-laden scrubs. They wound through some hallways and arrived at a locked ward.

Dean glanced over at his brother and shrugged. They hadn't expected the witness to be in a lock down but they would roll with the punches.

After taking the hunters through three locked doors Nurse Avery came to a halt in front of room 707. "I'm sure you understand that this man is completely out of touch. He's sweet and not aggressive but I doubt he will be of much assistance."

"That's quite alright, Ma'am," Sam interjected. "Thank you for bringing us here."

The Nurse smiled up at Sam. _Of course she did._ Over six feet tall, hazel eyes and that shaggy hair that softened the sharp angles of his face - yeah - Dean had begun noticing things like that.

The Nurse nodded at Sam and swished away. "What's this dude's name again, Dean?"

"Judd. He's twenty-one and is the only witness out of all the deaths. He was camping with a _friend_ when they were attacked by your nightmare."

Sam looked a little impressed.

"See?" Dean said. "I was listenin' earlier." Dean flashed a grin at his brother and knocked on the door before pushing it open.

Sam didn't have a chance to respond before they were standing at the foot of a hospital bed. There was a tall man in the bed who looked a little older than Dean. Dark hair framed his rounded features and dark brown eyes. Dean straightened his tie.

Sam repeated the introductions and held his hand out to Judd.

After a moment's hesitation Judd pulled his arm out from under the stark white blanket and clasped Sam's hand.

Dean pulled over one of the chairs and sat down at the side of Judd's bed. "I know you've done this with the local police but we would like you to tell us about the camping trip."

It looked like Judd went a little pale. He turned to look out the window before he spoke. "Brent and I went camping a lot."

"Woodsy guys?" Dean asked.

Judd turned to look at Dean. "This is a small town Agent. When people aren't the usual, it's easier to stay out of sight."

Dean frowned. "What're you-"

Judd lifted his eyebrows at the same time as Sam's fingers brushed over the nape of Dean's neck. Dean hadn't expected to be right. "Oh."

"Tell us what happened that night, Judd," Sam urged gently.

The combination of the featherlight touch and the timbre of Sam's voice sent a cool fire slithering down Dean's spine. He was in a bit of a stupor until he heard Judd sigh.

"Brent and I were camping at our usual place. Everything was fine. Great. We fell asleep late. Brent woke up hours later. He was having this nightmare."

The pressure of Sam's hand against the flat of Dean's shoulder blade confirmed they both knew they were on the right track.

"It was really crazy," Judd continued. "He was covered in sweat, yelling and. and it was like he was fighting something off. He punched me I think, that's what woke me up."

"And did you see anything else that night?" Sam asked.

Judd looked up at Sam with wide eyes as though he could sense that he was being given a license to tell the truth. Dean had watched Sam coax that look onto many faces over the years they'd been hunting together.

Judd scratched his arm above a bandage. "No one believes me."

"That's usually where we step in," Sam said.

Dean smiled slightly. "Tell us what you saw."

"There was something there." Judd sat up a little straighter. "It was like Brent was actually fighting this - this. Fuck. It looked like some kind of Gremlin."

"Stupid movie," Dean said. he grunted when Sam's knee thumped into the back of his chair.

Judd didn't notice much. "He looked small but at the same time, I could tell that he was dangerous. It looked like he was covered in black oil or something. Like it was shining. Claws - the god-damned thing didn't have hands. It had claws. How can that even be real?"

Dean nodded and looked down. He was familiar with the feeling. He listened a bit as Judd continued his tale. Some of it was familiar. Many of their hunts involved the shock and disbelief that people experienced when they saw something that should be a drawing in a book rather than a creature in front of them.

He tuned out Judd's words knowing that Sam would be listening. It was hard to imagine something like that happening to him and Sam. It had been scary though for Dean when Sam had dealt with nightmares as a kid.

He tuned in again as Judd was describing the way the creature had clawed its way up Brent's body and ripped into the guy's throat. It sounded like some weird-assed cross between a werewolf and a vampire only crammed into a body the size of a leprechaun.

They wrapped up the questioning quickly. It was never a good thing for fake FBI agencies to overstay their welcome at any official facility.

As they headed back to the car Sam slipped his suit jacket off and swung it over his shoulder.

There was a V of sweat darkening the center of Sam's back. His damp shirt clung to the curves of his back.

"Is that what you think?" Sam asked. He had half-turned to face Dean where he'd fallen behind. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Me? Fine. It's a werevampimp."

Sam chuckled and loosened his tie.

Dean's eyes lingered on the taut muscles in his brother's neck. Sam looked good in the white shirt.

There was a strange expression on Sam's face as he finished loosening his tie. He could remember when Sam couldn't tie a tie and had to rely on his brother for help.

"Is there something on my neck?" Sam rubbed at his throat and frowned.

"No." Dean shook his head and shrugged out of his jacket as he approached the car. “We need to figure out exactly what we're fighting. Right now we could try to kill the damned thing in about ten different ways and find out that none of them worked."

"Time," Sam said as he stared off in the distance.

"Let's go back to the room and change. I hate these monkey suits."

"Your ass looks great in those pants," Sam said almost too softly for Dean to hear. But he _had_ heard.

When Dean looked over at his brother there were already rosy splotches on his cheeks. All Dean did was raise an eyebrow.

Sam's mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he managed actual words. "I would have noticed that before. Well, not _before_ before. What I mean is that if I weren't. Well-"

"Sam? Stop talking," Dean made sure he was past Sam before he let a smirk creep onto his face. He had _no_ idea what they were doing; what all the new feelings were but it would never be a bad thing to get something over on his brother.

Dean got in the car and started it. Only a handful of seconds passed before Sam climbed into the car. He looked straight ahead. "I'm sorry."

A little surprised, Dean looked over at his brother as he pulled out of the parking lot. "For what? Embarrassing yourself? Sammy. I'm used to you doing that."

"Whatever," Sam said but Dean caught sight of a smile.

They drove out onto the road that lead to the motel.

"So," Dean began. "Where do we start to find out how to kill this warevampimp?"

"For the record, I'm not calling it that," Sam said. He scratched at his cheek and looked thoughtful. "There are a couple of things in one of the books I took from Bobby's. I can check that. You could call Garth; see if he can find out anything useful."

"That will be fifteen minutes of my life I will never get back."

Sam laughed.

It wasn't long before Dean pulled up to their motel. They headed inside and Dean began to take his suit off. He even folded his tie over the hanger so it wouldn't look like shit the next time he head to wear it. He hung up his shirt and then slipped it into the garment bag they stored their Fed clothes in.

He hunted through the pockets of his suit pants. "Hey, Sam? Do you remember when we didn't know what a garment bag was?"

Sam was pulling some jeans out of his duffle. "I do. But then we weren't ..." When Sam's eyes found Dean he just stared with his jeans in one hand and his tie in the other.

Dean rubbed his chest self-consciously. "What?"

"Nothing." Sam spun around and searched frantically for something else in his duffle bag.

"Sam?" Dean took a few steps closer.

"Yeah?" But Sam wouldn't look up.

There wasn't enough room in Sam's bag for him to search more than a few seconds.

"You lookin' for something?"

Dean took a few steps closer.

"Yeah. No. Just organizing." But Sam seemed to be pulling clothes out then putting them back in exactly the same spot.

Dean frowned and walked up to stand behind his brother. He peered into Sam's bag.

"Can't you just leave me alone?" Sam said sharply.

"Wow," Dean answered. "What's your problem all of a sudden?"

Sam shoved a hand through his hair and tossed the jeans he was still holding down onto the bed. "I need a break."

"Jesus. I was just wondering what you were doing." Dean plunked himself down beside Sam's bag.

"I mean time away."

"Away?"

"From you," Sam said firmly.

There it was. Dean hadn't been sure what he'd seen on his brother's face but he hadn't expected that.

"What brought this on?" It was the best Dean could come up with in terms of a question. What he really wanted to do was tell Sam to shove it.

"You. Me. This - whatever this is. I can't stand here and watch you parade around like nothing-"

"Whoa. Whoa. _Whoa._ ," Dean interrupted. "Parade? I'm not doing anything I've never done before."

"But, like you said. Things are different now."

Dean stood up and waited until Sam looked at him. "Am I supposed to change in the bathroom now."

Closing his eyes slowly, Sam shook his head. "No."

"So what then?" Dean just wanted everything to go back to normal between them and he was beginning to see that the chances of that were slim.

"I just need a break to get my head on straight." Sam began shoving clothes back into his bag.

"No," Dean said. "Where are you gonna go?"

"Doesn't matter."

"You're not taking the car."

"Never expected to," Sam said quietly.

For a few moments Dean just stood there. He was exhausted by overthinking everything. "No."

Reaching out, Dean grabbed the handles of the duffel and pulled it away from Sam.

Sam's hand collided with Dean's bare shoulder and shoved him back forcefully.

"Sam." There was a sharp edge of warning in Dean's tone. He had a pretty long fuse when it came to Sam but it had been burning for a while.

Sam glared for a moment then charged at Dean. At the last second Dean twisted his hips and managed to get on top of Sam as they hit the mattress. He straddled his brother's hips and pinned Sam's wrists to the quilt.

"You wanna tell me what's goin' on now?" Dean asked.

"No." Sam renewed his effort to get free and got one wrist free long enough to grab Dean's shoulder but there was no way he could shift his brother without cold cocking him.

Dean wouldn't put it past his brother to sucker punch him but he took a gamble. "Sam," he said softly. "Sammy, talk to me."

Sam stopped thrashing around and froze as he stared around and froze as he stared up into his brother's eyes. There was a strange expression on Sam's face, enigmatic, and his pupils had widened until his eyes were almost black.

The unfamiliar sensation was back in Dean's body. It was a hot, wet, heat that burned a spiral down his spine. He had to take a few deep breaths to fight off the way his mind got a little fuzzy.

When Sam's fingers relaxed and the tendons in his wrist went slack, Dean let go. Sam stayed where he was. His tie hung loose around his neck, the top two buttons of his dress shirt were open and the white cotton was bright against Sam's skin.

Their eyes were locked together and Dean could feel Sam's gaze like a set of hands holding him there. Sam bit down on his bottom lip and Dean's heart sped up a little.

The problem was the thoughts that were tangled up in Dean's brain. He _knew_ what he was feeling but he couldn't face that.

It was Sam lying there on the bed with an _invitation_ written on his lips. But Sam was Sammy. Sam was the little brother that Dean had loved, protected and been pissed off at.

Sam turned his head to the side and Dean's eyes travelled down that taut muscles in Sam's neck. There was an amazing amount of strength in Sam's body; he looked like he was coiled up and ready to strike.

Dean's hand slid across Sam's chest and then up Sam's neck until he could use two fingers to turn Sam's face towards him. He didn't know where to look. His gaze moved from Sam's eyes to the teeth marks on Sam's bottom lip then back again.

The urge to lean down closer to Sam's lips was a little overwhelming. Sam's breath was hot against Dean's mouth and made the hairs on the back of his head stand up.

Sam swallowed.

Dean leaned closer and his lips touched Sam's. The fuse that had been burning slowly flared to life.

The soft heat of Sam's mouth was heady and Dean felt like he would just melt. Then Sam's lips parted and Dean found himself gasping for air.

There were three sharp bangs on the motel room door and the Winchesters shot away from one another.

"Door," Sam said gruffly. He had scrambled across the bed and was looking a little pale.

Dean could barely move. He nodded and tried to get some oxygen back into his lungs. He glanced over at the door then back at Sam.

"I'll-" Sam gestured towards the door then slid off the bed. He straightened his shirt slightly before looking through the peep hole in the door. "It's housekeeping."

" _Jesus_." Dean blew out the breath he'd been holding since Sam had reached the door.

The door swung open and Sam leaned out to explain that they didn't need their room cleaned.

The thoughts in Dean's mind were in a tornado. He'd kissed his brother and nothing had ever felt better. _Brothers._

Lurching into motion, Dean found his clean t-shirt and pulled it on quickly. He flipped his belt open so he could step out of his pants then struggled into his jeans. He smoothed his t-shirt down then sat down on the bed. After a moment or two he stood up again and shoved his hands into his pockets.

The door clicked shut and Sam leaned his forehead against it.

"Sam..." What the _hell_ was Dean supposed to say. Their whole lives he'd been the one who told Sam that everything would be okay. All that was ahead of them as far as Dean could see was an empty road and no map.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam said without moving away from the door. He pulled his head back a little and let it thump softly against the door.

"We'll work this out, Sam. We always do." Dean sat back down on the end of his own bed.

Shoulders sagging, Sam turned around and leaned back against the door. "What do we do now?"

It was a pretty good question and one that Dean didn't have an answer for.

"I'll let ya know if I figure it out," Dean answered with a weak smile on his face.

-=-=--

In the end, Dean decided to go out for a drink. The pub was almost deserted. The place smelled like stale beer and peanut shells. But the bartender was a nice guy. While he washed glasses and pulled the occasional beer, he chatted with Dean.

At first they talked about cars. It was always a good starting point for Dean. He could talk about Baby for hours. The bartender drove a Dodge but Dean could forgive him for that. At least it was a classic American car.

The bartender was married with two kids, a bit of a foreign world to Dean. But he liked the way the guy's face lit up when he talked about his family. It was easy to tell that the man's family meant everything to him. He didn't seem to care where he worked as long as he had the money to take care of his family and time to share with them.

For some reason, it made a lot of sense to Dean. About halfway through the conversation Dean realized he shared a lot of the same feelings ... only for Sam.

Nursing his fourth or fifth whisky Dean fell silent. There were so many memories of Dean's life that were mostly Sam. He was always there. He was there when Dean needed him, he was there when they fought, he was the perfect hunting partner and he was even around when Dean didn't want him to be. Sam was Dean's world in so many ways.

Before his empty glass hit the bar, Dean was off his barstool and heading back to the motel. It suddenly seemed really important that everything between him and Sam be okay.

Sam hadn't moved much while his brother had been away. He was sitting on the end of his bed and flipping through the channels on the TV.

"You're back," Sam said with a surprised look on his face.

Dean pulled his keys out of his pocket and threw them on the table then locked up the door. "Still allowed to stay here, right?"

Sam smiled fondly and threw the remote onto Dean's bed. "Watch what you want, I can't find anything good."

Before he took his jacket off Dean grabbed the remote and found a music channel. "There."

Sam looked a little suspicious of his brother's motives but he didn't say anything.

After tossing the remote onto the tale Dean hesitated, thoughts still reeling a little, then headed over and sat down beside his brother.

If Sam was uncomfortable there was no outward sign. He still sat there with his hands clasped, staring at the TV.

As many times as Dean had run through everything in his mind it wasn't coming out any easier. It was a little like waking up from a dream where everything had seemed so straightforward.

"You went out for a drink?" Sam asked.

Nodding, Dean smiled. "Yeah. Talked to the bartender most of the time."

Sam looked down at the worn carpet and nodded and Dean knew _exactly_ what his brother was thinking. But then, they were still just beginning to try and understand each other.

"The guy was married; has three kids," Dean said. He wanted to get the conversation back on the right track quickly.

Sam looked up again and smiled. "Was he happy?"

"Yeah." Dean scratched at his stubble. "That's what we were talking about. His family is his whole life, you know?"

There was no nod or anything from Sam; he just blinked.

"He didn't care where he worked as long as he had the time to be with them. Just made me think, I guess."

"Think?" Sam turned slightly so he could meet Dean's gaze. "Like think that you want that too?"

"You know me better than that, Sammy. A white picket fence won't keep out the monsters."

Sam nodded.

They both knew it was true. There wasn't really a choice for them to make anymore. No matter where they went the trouble would follow. There was no point in trying to hide from it.

But there was more to it for Dean. There was Sam. Each morning, each drive, each hunt and wound and loss had Sam at the end of it.

"You're my family, Sammy."

"I know that," Sam answered quickly.

"I _mean_... you're what I want. Or what I need. Both. I don't know."

"Are you drunk?" There was a shaky smile on Sam's face.

Dean just shook his head. He _really_ sucked at trying to get his thoughts out. "Us. This."

Sam looked around the battered old motel room and frowned.

"Okay," Dean said quickly. "Maybe not exactly this here. Not in some shitty motel room. But you and me. _Us_."

"It's not like I'm going anywhere," Sam said. He shrugged.

"I'm not getting this out right." Dean sighed.

"Maybe I'm not understanding you," Sam said softly.

Dean had one impulse that broke through his confusion and he decided to go with it. He spun on the end of the bed and slid his hand into Sam's hair so he could force their gazes together.

"Us," Dean said. "I want us." His thumb swept over the height of Sam's cheek. " _Us._ "

For a few moments Sam looked nothing but confused and then realization spread over his features. "You're saying that because of what I did. Because. The kissing thing."

"No, Sam. I'm saying it-"

Sam tried to shrug his way out of Dean's grip but wasn't successful. "You don't have to do that just because. Just because you're playing big brother and you think you've gotta be everything to me. You just can't even tell how messed up you are anymore. It's wrong. _I'm_ wrong-"

Dean felt anger nip at him and growled in frustration. He yanked Sam closer until their lips were a breath from touching. "Don't be an ass. This isn't all about you; this is about us."

"And you?" Sam whispered. He sighed then sucked in a huge breath.

"Me?" Dean wished that he had all the answers. "I wanna try - I want. I want you." Dean felt the flush of heat creeping up his neck as he admitted the way he was feeling. He _couldn't_ explain it and there was part of him that still felt a twinge of guilt over it. His _brother_.

He could feel the warmth of Sam's breath on his lips and he could feel Sam trembling. Dean knew that Sam must feel like he was being set up to fail.

"Sammy, we both feel this ... this _something_ and is it really that bad?" Dean pulled back a little so he could study Sam's expression. "That guy, the bartender - it made me think. What if I lose you? I lose everything. You are all that really matters when it comes down to it."

There was disbelief written all over Sam's face and Dean figured that was probably completely normal. There was nothing but risk in front of them.

Dean pulled Sam even closer by his stupidly long hair and pressed their lips together. He felt the shaking of Sam's body worsen. Sam's lips were smooth and hot and Dean could feel his heart began to pound when his brother hesitated to respond. And then something relaxed in Sam's body. His lips parted slightly and he groaned as though he was tormented.

The sound didn't make Dean let go of his brother. His free hand searched for a grip on Sam's worn t-shirt and then he forced them even closer.

Sam's chest was firm and heat seeped through his t-shirt and onto Dean's palm. Sam ran hot. Dean loved the feel of it. It was a little bit of alive in all the dead crap that seemed to surround them.

Dean let his mouth fall open and he felt his brother duck his head down to chase the kiss. It sent a shockwave across Dean's chest. He _knew_ Sam wanted him but Sam was stubborn and...

... all the blood in Dean's body surged south in waves when Sam melted into him. His strong hands moved to Dean's shoulders and he held on like he needed to steady them both. As their mouths continued to slip and slide together Dean's breath began to elude him.

There was _so_ much in the way Sam kissed. It was just the safe side of desperate; it was sweet and strong and it felt like the end of it would stop Dean's heart.

It shouldn't feel like that while Dean was kissing his brother. But holy fuck when Sam's tongue slid forward Dean's anxious thoughts were chased from his mind. It was all _Sam._

Dean's heart tripped over itself when Sam's hot fingers found the bare nape of Dean's neck. He finally gave in to the urge to slide his hands down Sam's sides. The soft material of Sam's t-shirt bunched up under Dean's hands. His body filled with pleasure again when his fingers found the smooth skin of Sam's waist.

A moan slipped from Sam's mouth into the sliver of space between their mouths and Dean felt it like gooseflesh skimming down his body.

"We good?" Dean murmured against his brother's lips.

Sam nodded mutely but Dean needed more. His fingers slid _just_ under the loose waistband of Sam's jeans and he dug his short nails into the smooth flesh.

"Yes," Sam whispered almost breathlessly. "Yes."

Everything seemed to intensify. So quickly Dean felt unbalanced.

He shoved his hands up under Sam's t-shirt until he could yank it off over his brother's head.

Sam broke from the kiss for long enough to lose his t-shirt. There was a brief flash of uncertainty in his eyes and Dean licked his lips. He could still taste Sam there and he didn't want the taste to fade away again.

Before Sam could cave under the press of uncertainty Dean struggled out of his own shirt.

They sat there for a few tense moments. It wasn't as though they'd never seen each others' bodies before but this time it was like being given licence to take it all in.

Dean couldn't help the way his gaze traveled along the unending slide of Sam's collarbone to his muscular shoulder. Sure, there were scars. Dean had sewn up most of Sam's cuts over the years. But there was a whole lot of perfect and hot about Sam's body.

Very slowly Dean moved his hand and trailed his fingers down Sam's chest. He felt Sam's abs quiver when he reached them and he stared straight into Sam's eyes as he flicked the button open.

Sam took a deep breath.

Dean steeled his gaze just to make sure Sam knew he wouldn't back down.

They stood at the same time and Dean almost fell backwards. Sam grabbed his brother's arm and hauled him up flush against his sweat-damp chest.

Their mouths crashed together clumsily and Dean let out a grunt at the bittersweet pain.

Their hands found each others' hips briefly and then they were struggling to rid themselves of the rest of their clothes as they kept up the fiercely intense kissing.

Dean was already struggling for breath and he could see the sweat beading on Sam's forehead.

Their bodies pressed together again and then Dean shoved at Sam until his calves were caught by the end of the bed and he fell backwards onto it.

Just like that Sam was lying there on his back. Not a thread of clothing was left to obscure Dean's view. Sam was gorgeous. His sweat-slick skin was flushed and Dean wanted to touch it all.

He'd always thought of Sam as _his_ but seeing his brother lying there on the bed gave the word an entirely different meaning.

Dean knelt on the end of the bed and then crawled forward until he was on his side facing Sam.

Sam rolled towards his brother and they lay there face to face for a while. A shy smile slid on to Sam's face and he reached up to push his hair back out of his eyes. "Weird, huh?"

Tilting his head to the side slightly, Dean smiled. "Not really any weirder than anything else we've been through and a fuck of a lot more pleasant."

The expression on Sam's face softened. "I guess."

Dean studied his brother's face for a few moments then rubbed his hand over his thundering heart. "Sammy, if it's too weird -"

" - No, no. It's just. It's not," Sam said quickly.

Rather than trying to speak, Dean just leaned forward and brushed his lips along Sam's. It had the desired effect; Sam fell silent and seemed to relax a little.

Sam didn't pull away so Dean deepened the kiss. He pried Sam's mouth open with his tongue and shivered as he felt once more how hot Sam's mouth was.

Their tongues twined together then Dean pulled back to lick his way along Sam's bottom lip. He bit the swollen flesh and ran his hands over the muscles that tightened across Sam's chest. Yes, Sam was _his_.

They found their way together, learning each others' bodies and finding the places on each others’ flesh that pulled out moans and sighs.

Dean was a little mesmerized by the way Sam responded to each touch. Dean could bite down on his brother's shoulder and feel the way Sam's cock would pulse against his thigh. When he dug his nails into Sam's back Dean could feel the heat of gasped air from Sam's mouth. He was addicted the moment their lips had met for the first time; he just hadn't realized it.

And Sam. Sam's broad shoulders were rock hard; his flesh was covered in slick sweat, his neck tasted salty and Dean couldn't get enough.

His hand trailed down Sam's muscular chest and he felt taut abs quiver against his fingertips.

Sam's hands were rough, his grip strong on Dean's hip and arm. He was rocking his hips forward slightly as he mouthed his way down along Dean's shoulder.

Adrenaline and want railed through Dean's veins and he shoved Sam back down onto the bed so he could roll on top of him.

A low moan rattled free of Sam's body and his hands grabbed hold of the meat of Dean's ass. The strength in his grip reminded Dean of _exactly_ how powerful his brother was and the fact that he was _giving_ himself over to Dean.

Dean pressed his hands down into the mattress at Sam's side and held himself up. He slid his hips against Sam's and felt desire cut through his body as their cocks rubbed together.

The thick flesh of Sam's hard-on was blazing hot and Dean felt sweat slide down his spine.

It was nothing short of instinct the way Dean let his hips thrust forward. His awareness narrowed down to the feel of their cocks pressing together and the way Sam was biting down on his bottom lip.

"Jesus, Sam," Dean murmured. He lowered himself down so he could catch Sam's mouth with his own. The kisses sent heat trickling down Dean's spine.

Sam's hands moved all over Dean's body. He knew he felt the same way; he wanted to learn every part of his brother's body in the new light.

He could run his tongue over the small, ragged scar on Sam's bottom lip. The sharp cut of Sam's hip bones pressed their mark into Dean's flesh. Long, sweat damp wisps of Sam's hair were glued to his cheeks and Dean tasted the salty flesh when he mouthed his way along his brother's cheek bone.

Everything Dean could see and feel was _Sam._

He let one knee rest on the bed so he could give himself some more leverage. One hand slid over Sam's tight nipple then settled at the base of his brother's throat.

The tendons in Sam's throat were steel bands. He swallowed furiously; his hands made their way down Dean's slick back back to his ass.

Sam's strong fingers urged his brother's hips forward and Dean was glad to oblige.

There was no way he could get close enough to the intense heat of Sam's body. He was torn between the pleasure of thrusting against Sam's body and the burning comfort of Sam's flesh against his own.

All too soon Dean could feel the tickling creep of his orgasm. The pressure of it built quickly and Dean buried his hand in his brother's long hair so he could pull it roughly. He needed Sam's mouth and pulled until their days were crushed together.

The feel of Sam's mouth set off the desire that had been burning inside Dean. He threw his head back as the first pulse of come left his cock. His spine arched and Sam gripped his brother's shoulders as he continued to thrust his hips upwards.

When Sam's body jolted up from the bed Dean could feel the spread of wet heat between their bodies. His arms went weak and he fell down onto Sam.

There was a half smile on Dean's face as he lay on his brother and listened to Sam's deep panting.

Sam's long arms wound around Dean's waist and he held on tightly. He buried his face in the crook of Dean's neck and breathed heavily against his skin.

Frowning slightly, Dean loosened his grip on Sam's hair and smoothed his fingers through the damp strands. When he felt the ring of Sam's arms loosen a little Dean slid off his brother's body.

The rise and fall of Sam's chest slowly returned to normal.

When Dean looked over at his brother, Sam was staring up at the ceiling blinking slowly. His brow was furrowed and when Dean looked down he could see Sam's hands were clenched into fists.

"That didn't take long," Dean mumbled. He reached up and dragged a hand down his face.

"What?" Sam's head rolled slowly to the side.

"Y'already look like you're overthinking everything."

Sam shrugged and raised his eyebrows as though Dean should know that there was a lot to think about.

After a long sigh Dean rolled onto his side so he could watch Sam's face. "Sam? What's goin' on? I wanna bask. It's basking time."

Making light of things seldom worked when it came to Sam but Dean thought it was worth a try.

A frown of annoyance flitted across Sam's face. "This. You didn't have to do this."

Dean's eyes widened. He hadn't expected _that_. Chuckling quietly, Dean shifted a little closer to Sam's sweaty body. "Sam, do you _really_ think I would do _this_ just to make you feel better, do you? 'Cause that would be messed up even for me."

Sam's head whipped to the side and he looked a little shocked when their eyes met.

Okay, Dean had to admit it was a poor choice of words. Being _so_ turned on that he nearly passed out by his _own_ brother was definitely on the messed up side of things.

The thing was, he didn't really care anymore. He wasn't sure when he'd realized that. But, _fuck_ it sure felt like he and Sam had earned the right to be a little left of center.

"Sam. This is okay," Dean began. "I know that your big brain is already working this over ... but just stop."

"Dean-"

"No." Dean pressed a finger to the lips that he'd kissed so hard they were swollen and a darker red than usual. "We're not - _you're_ not doing this. Remember all those times you've told me that I'm too self-sacrificing and shit like that? Well, _this_ is for me."

Sam blinked a few times before he nodded once.

"Whatever _this_ is. Whatever it becomes, I'm okay with it. If you're not okay then you back out right now."

Sam was silent as he stared into Dean's eyes. It went on a little too long and Dean cleared his throat.

"I'm - it's okay, Dean. It's what I wanted, too." Looking a little embarrassed Sam turned his gaze back to the mottled ceiling.

"So we're good then?"

There was more silence for a while and then Sam smiled. It was the kind of full on warm and sweet smile Sam had always had. "We're good."

Dean smirked and leaned in to mouth his brother's chiseled jaw.

-=-=-=-

The smooth rumble of the Impala's engine was the best sound in the world as far as Dean was concerned. However, he was getting hungry and Sam still hadn't made it out of the motel room. "Sam! I'm dyin' out here."

Hanging out the window, Dean groaned. He may have been exaggerating a little. Hell, he knew he was but it was his responsibility to be a burr under his brother's saddle. Everyone had to be good at something.

The door swung open and Sam emerged. His hair was still wet from his shower and his skin was pink. After glaring at Dean, Sam shut the motel room door and threw his duffel bag into the back seat before climbing into the car.

"Fuck, Dean. You knew I wanted to shower. Ya coulda waited a few minutes." Sam pushed his hair off his forehead and let out a frustrated sigh.

"Showers only take five minutes. What were you gettin' up to in there?" Grinning, Dean reversed out of the parking spot. 

For a few seconds Sam looked a little confused then he looked so indignant that Dean couldn't help laughing.

"I wasn't - there's no way after-" Sam took a deep breath then punched Dean in the shoulder. "Asshole."

Dean just laughed harder and reached over to curl his hand around the back of Sam's neck. It was surprising how quickly Dean had gotten used to touching his brother more intimately. He liked it, the new normal in their crazy and completely abnormal lives.

"What you thinkin' about?" Sam asked. He leaned back into the curve of Dean's palm.

There were really too many thoughts spinning through Dean's mind for him to put his finger on anything. But there _was_ that one thing that had always been in the forefront of Dean's mind. "You."

The answer seemed to do the trick. A gentle smile slipped onto Sam's lips and he relaxed down into the seat.

Yeah, they were good.

-=-=-=- The End -=-=-=-


End file.
